


Stem the Tide

by 27dragons, tisfan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Friends With Benefits, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Minor Sam Wilson/Wanda Maximoff, Minor Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Oral Sex, Past Domestic Violence, Rimming, Sandbridge AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-31 17:51:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 61,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13980336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: After years of struggling to keep his head above water, Bucky Barnes can no longer keep up with the debts and lack of customers that his parent's beachside restaurant, Dockside, has accumulated. He puts the property up for sale.Enter a homeless and destitute Tony Stark, on the run from his abusive boyfriend, who stumbles into the middle of Bucky's personal ruin and turns his life around. Both in trouble, both trying to change their lives, they cling to each other as they attempt to stem the tide.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flight_Of_Icarus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flight_Of_Icarus/gifts), [Coconutice22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coconutice22/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Safe and (the) Sound](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10573350) by [27dragons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons), [tisfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan). 



> This is an AU for our Sandbridge AU. 
> 
> This story is a stand alone, and can be read without any working knowledge of our 13+ novel/story series, but some of the emotional impact might be less. 
> 
> One of our friends on the [WinterIron Discord](https://discord.gg/A32YB6Y) (18+ only) was speculating: in the Sandbridge AU, Dockside, the restaurant where they all work, where Bucky and Tony live, that was Bucky's mother's dream, is a character in its own right. So what would happen to our babies if Bucky had lost the restaurant?
> 
> The whole family, as we know it, would have drifted apart... or would it? 
> 
> Because of a few different choices that they made, Bucky is a lot more bitter, Tony a bit more fatalistic, and some characters are a lot less present. 
> 
> We hope you will enjoy this alternate look at favored and beloved characters...

The entire world shuddered to a stop.

It shouldn’t have, really. Bucky put a hand out on the porch rail to steady himself. His eyes were drawn, automatically, to the sea, where the waves crashed and rolled against the sandy beach without any concern for what had changed in Bucky’s life.

Nothing had changed. The porch under his bare feet was the same; his mother had made it. Sanded it and repainted it two summers before she’d died as a weekday project. Bucky vaguely remembered his sister complaining that sawdust was getting in her bedroom and she needed to maintain a clean work uniform, and what was the world coming to.

Same Dockside.

Same Bucky.

New problems.

And at the same time, everything had changed.

Bucky had always told himself, through every bit of bad times he’d had, Dockside would always be here. Home would always be right where he left it.

Guess nothing was forever.

But the man that Bucky loved had just offered him a golden parachute.

 _This is what you wanted, idiot,_ Bucky told himself. He wasn’t sure it was, though. Did he want to be bailed out like a toddler who couldn’t manage to stack the dishes properly? It wasn’t fair, part of his brain was screaming. This wasn’t his fault. But it still tasted like _failure_.

“I’m sorry, Alex, there were some cars out on the road, I think I missed that,” Bucky said, because he was pretty sure he had heard correctly, but he wanted to make sure. In case a miracle occured and something else entirely had happened. He could dream, right? For a few minutes.

He crumpled the piece of paper in his hand nervously, then tucked the phone under his ear and smoothed it out again. It’s not like the notification was going to be any different, wrinkled or smooth. He wasn’t going to owe less money if he ironed the damn thing out, and they weren’t -- _probably_ \-- going to charge him more money if he had a crumpled up copy of the Final Notice.

God damn it, Dad.

“Darling,” Alexander Pierce said, and it was so tempting to just curl into that voice, to just stop worrying. Let Alex take care of everything. “You heard me. I know, I know, my generosity is overwhelming, but I’m perfectly serious. Dockside is a local treasure. I’ll be down in a few weeks, we can talk about it more, then. I’ll get my people to draw something up. Best for everyone. Gotta run.”

“I love you, Alex,” Bucky said, but it was too late. The phone had already gone silent in his hand. It didn’t matter. Alex knew how Bucky felt; he’d always known how Bucky felt, from the very beginning.

He wasn’t sure why he’d even called Alex in the first place, except that the final notice was such a shock. And Alex was a lawyer, as well as having a seat on the Virginia state senate. Thought maybe Alex might have some advice, or something, on how to get the notice extended.

_Six months._

Jesus.

Three years worth of back taxes and a second mortgage on the place, and Dad had never even told him?

 _Seventy thousand dollars_. In six months. How the _hell_ was he supposed to do that?  

Less than that, even, his nitpicky brain pointed out, helpfully. The notice was dated May 1st, but the post mark was the day after that, and Bucky had only picked up the mail that morning. Five months and three weeks.

Bucky folded the notice up and stuffed it in his back pocket. Grabbed his smokes and tapped the pack several times against his wrist to pack in the loose tobacco.

Wasn’t like he hadn’t known that Dockside was failing. It was his mother’s dream; she’d built it with her own two hands, practically. Raised him and his sister there, among the kitchen help and the waitstaff. Weathered flood and storm and fire, and even one earthquake that hadn’t done more than scare everyone and rattle the dishes.

They’d been losing customers steadily since Ma had died. And some staff, the old guard who couldn’t see themselves working for Bucky, when they’d practically raised him. He’d filled the roster, mostly, with friends who needed work, but then, well, shit happened.

Bucky could man the grill, but he didn’t have that deft touch that other cooks did. He could put on an apron and take orders, but he wasn’t a great server. _Face it, Barnes, you’re just good enough at everything to be worthless at all of it._

And now Bucky was going to lose the restaurant. And his home, because who the hell was going to buy the place and let him still live over it?

“Fuck,” he said. He glanced down at his pack of cigarettes. Three left in that pack: two turned down and one facing up: his lucky, the last one in the pack he was supposed to smoke. A bit of a guarantee against a last minute moocher. _Never let anyone else smoke your lucky, kid_.

He’d never broken that unspoken rule of smoker’s etiquette. Never bummed a lucky off someone, never smoked it anything but last.

“Could use some goddamn luck around here,” Bucky said. He hesitated, then tipped it out. Stuck it in his mouth and felt the dry, paper-dust texture of the filter in his mouth. Cupped his hand over the end and lit it.

That first drag of a smoke, longer than the usual to make sure the cherry took, a thin rail of smoke into his lungs, that swimmy-headed feeling of the nicotine rush.

Bucky curled his tongue as he exhaled, letting the smoke puff into a ring.

Clamped the butt in his teeth. This next call was going to be even worse, but he didn’t see how he could put it off. And maybe, just once, just maybe, his sister could help him.

Probably not.

But Bucky was a dreamer, so it was always possible.

***

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, hands on his hips. After quite a lot of begging, Bucky had managed to talk Sam into working a couple of shifts for him. Mostly dishwashing and wrapping and some cleanup, but Bucky needed the help.

“Gonna use the porch for some workshop stuff,” Bucky said. “Ma used to work in the garage, but the ventilation system’s shot an’ I don’t know how to fix it.”

“So, you’re putting up tape that says _Warning: Zombies_?”

Bucky shrugged. “It was leftover from Halloween. People’ll get the idea,” he said.

“Man, you do not know your customer base if you think Halloween caution tape’s gonna keep ‘em from tryin’ to sit here.”

They weren’t going to be his customer base for much longer. “Well, I gotta work somewhere,” Bucky muttered. Every single one of the picnic tables needed work; leveling out the feet or repainting, replacing some support struts, sandpapering. He’d ask Wanda for some help later with the painting; she liked to do that sort of thing.

A few years back, he’d have asked Steve to do it, but he and Steve weren’t as close as they used to be, and Bucky didn’t like to ask for favors. They might come with apologies, or they might expect apologies, and Bucky still hadn’t figured out how he felt about any of it, so like pretty much everything else in his life, he threw it in the bucket of “I’ll think about this later” and never did.

A few weeks had turned into a few months had turned into a little over a year while Bucky hadn’t been paying attention, and now everything was all… weird and awkward and shit.

“Why are we repainting the tables?”

Bucky wet his lips cautiously. “Don’t spread it around too much,” he cautioned.

“Keep it zipped, got it,” Sam said.

The breath he took barely made the top of his lungs, even though he wanted to pull in something nice and cleansing. “Might be sellin’, come fall, after the Season’s over. Need to get this place into some sort of shape, bring the value up as much as possible.”

Sam whistled between his teeth. “Didn’t know you had it in you t’ sell this place.”

It was all Bucky could do not to laugh in Sam’s face. He didn’t know that he had it in him to sell, either. But what choice did he have? Sell to Alex, sell to Olive Garden. The money had to come from _somewhere_. If nothing else, putting the place all the way back in order would be good for customers, right?

The taxes on the place valued it -- and the land -- at about half a million. He probably wouldn’t get anywhere close to that with the real estate market the way it was. Even if he did, he’d have to pay out the second mortgage and the back taxes, plus half of that would go to his sister. Say, three hundred thousand, half to Becca, then seventy grand to pay off what he owed. There’d be enough to find somewhere small to live, take some time to look for work. Something. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

It still tasted like failure.

He didn’t say any of that. “Yeah, well. It’s not lookin’ too good, these days. Dad lost heart, an’ maybe I’ve just been tryin’ to keep a memory alive. Might be time to let it go.”

“Well, just because it’s all you know, doesn’t mean that’s all there is,” Sam said. “You gotta think it over; what is it that you like to do? Find some way to turn a buck doing that. I mean, what makes you happy, man?”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “Dude, you need to get laid. Have a beer or six, and get your head on straight. Everyone ought to know what makes them happy. Like, that’s the easiest thing in the world.”

Bucky scoffed. “Yeah, what makes _you_ happy, Sammy?”

“Bein’ out of the military makes me happy,” Sam said, promptly. “No one’s barkin’ orders at me. Well, ‘cept _you,_ sometimes. Spending time with my sister’s kids is pretty great. Love watching Jody swinging that bat, even if he can’t hit nothin’ with it. I like going to concerts, ‘specially outdoor ones and sittin’ in the grass. Singin’ gospel at church. You know. Being alive.”

“I’m alive,” Bucky said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but you ain’t livin’ much, man,” Sam said. “Look, shut down on Sunday this week, come t’ church with me.”

“You know I don’t do church,” Bucky said. There was a lot of things Bucky was pretty sure the religious folks did wrong about God, and their views on homosexuals was at the top of the list. God might not hate the gays, but boy, His followers sometimes did.

“You know we ain’t like that,” Sam said. “It’s singin’ and a little getting right with God, and some socializing, and then fried chicken and good food and you’ll have fun. Meet some new people. Have you even talked to someone you haven’t known half your life in the last six months?”

Bucky blinked. “Every damn day, Sammy. I run a restaurant, kinda comes with the territory.”

“Now you’re jus’ being stubborn,” Sam said.

“I have been accused of that before,” Bucky told him. “Now, get to work. I need that silver wrapped, at least.”

“Sunday, you hear me, if I have to drag you.”

“Sure, sure,” Bucky said. He wasn’t going to go to church with Sam, and Sam knew it. But they’d play that game of tag for the rest of the week, and maybe Sam would drop it. Eventually.

As for the rest of it, well, Bucky’d have some time to figure it out while he was sandpapering picnic tables.

Fuck.

Bucky sighed and headed out to the garage to start gathering tools. It was going to be a long few weeks.

***

Thank god the sun was going down; the heat of the day had been punishing, and it wasn’t even the middle of May yet. Tony’s stomach hurt, but he ignored it; there wasn’t much of anything he could do about hunger until the sun went down and he could scavenge the trash cans and Dumpsters.

The police who patrolled the beach were fanatical about loiterers, especially after dark. During the day, Tony could pretend to be a tourist -- his beard was starting to look scraggly, but he hadn’t yet acquired the full-on _homeless_ look. But he’d found that at night, even if he just stopped to sit on a bench for a while, they’d eventually run him off.

He’d been in Virginia Beach for almost a full week, and so far he hadn’t found anyone willing to pay him under the table for any kind of work. There were menial jobs aplenty, as he’d guessed, but he hadn’t counted on the swarms of high school and college kids taking them all.

He kept walking, because the alternative was stopping, and stopping meant he was considering giving up and going back to New York.

Not that he could afford a ticket on his own. He’d have to hitchhike, or borrow someone’s phone and call his father, and wouldn’t _that_ be humiliating, on top of whatever other punishment his father decided to dish out. No, he couldn’t go back. Walking was the only option.

He kept going south, away from the most heavily populated beaches. There were more job opportunities in the more crowded areas, but there were also more cops. Tony wasn’t really doing anything wrong, aside from finding spots to doze off, now and again, but he didn’t want to have to deal with the local police if he didn’t have to. If they didn’t just run him off, they’d want to ship him back home. Which, as previously established: no.

It was full night when he passed a little road sign that read “Welcome to Sandbridge.” It didn’t look much different from any of the other beachfront he’d passed since leaving the big hotels behind, but sure, why not. Sandbridge. The wind picked up, and actually had a hint of chill to it. Tony reveled in it for a moment, then realized what it meant: rain was on the way.

Cooling as that sounded, he would definitely start looking like a homeless person if he let his clothes get soaked and then dried out while he was still wearing them. He forced his tired legs to move a little faster and started scanning the buildings for a likely spot to hide for the rest of the night.

Another mile or so down the beach, he spotted a beachfront restaurant with a wraparound porch. The sign was barely lit, this late, but Tony made out _Dockside_ in tall white letters on a blue background. The whole thing was peeling and desperately needed a fresh coat of paint. But it was that porch that drew Tony’s eye. It probably wasn’t alarmed -- no need to scare away potential customers who just wanted to check the hours or read the menu posted by the door -- and it had a nice roof over it.

Tony scrambled up the steps just as the wind kicked up another notch.

The porch was littered with tarp-covered tables; it smelled like sawdust and new paint. The tarps were a godsend. Tony checked one to make sure it wasn’t tied down, and then shimmied underneath. The table was a picnic-style thing, nice and long. Plenty of space for Tony to stretch out while he slept.

It had been a while since he’d had that luxury. He pulled his backpack up under his head for a pillow and wrapped an arm around it and through the straps, and exhaustion claimed him before the rain started to fall.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony jolted awake at the cry of a seabird and was momentarily confused by the bright blue of the world before he remembered where he’d fallen asleep. He sat up as much as the table allowed, twisting and stretching and very carefully not remembering what it felt like to sleep in a bed, to drowse the morning away.

It had been a week since he’d woken up in the bed he’d shared with Ty, taking for granted the warmth under the covers and the softness of the mattress. A week since Ty had broken the first rule and hit Tony -- and then immediately began spouting the sort of bullshit that Tony had learned to expect from his father, turning the blame around on Tony. A week since Tony had walked out with nothing but a backpack of clothes and the cash he’d had in his wallet, and found his way to Virginia Beach.

Slightly less than a week since he’d begun to realize that even if Ty had only hit him the once, everything about Ty’s behavior had been about controlling Tony, just as much as his father’s more obvious abuse had been. Half a week since the last of his money had run out.

Tony pulled on the backpack and scooted out from under the tarp, squinting at the sunlight bouncing into his eyes off the waves. It was later than he’d slept the last few mornings, but still not much past sunrise. If he was lucky, he’d find some scraps in the restaurant’s Dumpster before he resumed his journey down the coast.

Sunlight in his eyes, he nearly tripped over the busted industrial sander. He did stub his toe on the heavy thing. “Shit, fuck!” he cursed. The sander had barely budged. There was a belt next to it, and a couple of screwdrivers, like whoever had been operating it had tried to fix it, then gotten frustrated and stormed off without picking up their things.

Intrigued, Tony crouched to look at it. It didn’t look that complicated; he could probably fix it in fifteen minutes if none of the parts needed to be replaced. It would be a nice thank-you to whoever owned the restaurant, too. A gift from the fairies of fortune. Tony grinned at the thought, then sat crosslegged and pulled the massive thing into his lap.

Ten minutes later, he’d found the jammed gears, reset them, and carefully threaded the sanding belt onto its track. He should make sure, right? No one would be around this early to hear it if he just fired it up for a couple of seconds, would they?

He found an outlet and plugged it in, then mashed the power button with his thumb. The sander roared to life with such force that it nearly jumped out of his hands; Tony hurriedly powered it back down. Yep, working. Good.

He set it down, unplugged it again, and scooped up his backpack. He looked at the screwdrivers for a moment, but it was only a passing thought -- he was hardly going to do anything useful with a spare screwdriver or two, was he? He just liked the feeling of tools in his hand again. He twirled the long Phillips-head screwdriver between his fingers, then set it carefully beside the sander.

He straightened and turned toward the steps-- “Oh, Jesus fuck!” Tony scrambled back again, away from the man who’d suddenly appeared from thin fucking air. “Holy shit, where the fuck did you come from?” He pressed his hand to his rabbit-running heart.

The man, shirtless and barefoot, his jeans barely hanging on around his hips like he hadn’t finished zipping them up, was scowling. “I _live_ here,” he said, his voice a slow drawl. “More reckon I should be askin’ the questions of someone messin’ with my tools at fuck o’clock in th’ morning.”

“I was _fixing_ it,” Tony said quickly. He edged to the side a little, ready to run if it looked like the man was going to start swinging. “I swear, I was just-- It was broken, I like machines. I didn’t know there was anyone here. Look, I’m going, okay?” He took another step toward the side.

“I know it’s broken,” the guy said, running one hand through a mop of dark hair, turning an epic case of bedhead into something slightly more civilized. “‘M the one what broke it. What… what do you mean, you fixed it? Why… why _bother_?”

Tony held out his hands to show them empty. “I, uh. Needed to get out of the rain last night, so I kinda caught a nap up here on your porch. Figured I’d fix the sander to say thanks.” He edged another couple of steps away. “Don’t call the cops on me, I swear I didn’t hurt anything.”

“Mister, you couldn’t hurt anythin’ around here any worse’n it already is,” he said with a low, bitter sort of laugh. He stopped with that awful sound, looking at Tony closely. “Hungry?”

Tony froze. Was this some kind of trick? The guy didn’t look cruel -- but then, neither had Ty. “I could eat,” he admitted carefully.

“Y’look like a scared cat,” the man said, casually. “I ain’t gonna bite you. C’mon in, if you want. Pancakes, bacon, eggs. Coffee.” He slid past Tony on the way to the door, and just fucking opened it. Like, who even did that? Left the damn door unlocked all night? It was probably good that Tony hadn’t known that; he’d have been far too tempted to steal a loaf of bread or something like he was in a goddamn Dickens’ novel.

The man cut the lights on with one hand. “Name’s Barnes,” he said, over his shoulder. “I own this place, least for the summer.”

Barnes didn’t look back to see if Tony was following him or not.

Tony debated with himself for all of about five seconds, but he hadn’t eaten for a good thirty-six hours and his stomach was making its argument pretty loudly. He followed Barnes into the restaurant.

It was a homey sort of place, with wide spaces on the floor where, Tony assumed, the picnic tables usually fit. There were pictures on the wall behind the register, and the rest of the walls were covered with beach-themed kitsch. But it all went together, somehow.

Barnes was disappearing through a batwing door that probably led to the kitchen. Tony followed cautiously. In the kitchen, Barnes was getting out bowls and pans and -- Tony’s stomach rumbled again -- bacon and eggs and flour. Tony’s mouth watered so hard he thought he could eat the eggs raw. “What’s the catch?”

Barnes shook his head. “No catch. Hungry people eat. You homeless? Folks kicked you out, maybe?” He glanced at Tony’s expression and shrugged. “Someone punched you recent-like an’ you’re sleepin’ on my porch, which ain’t ‘xactly the most comfortable place in the world.”

He poured a whole mess of eggs onto a flat, industrial grill plate that looked like it might not have been cleaned… ever. Slapped at least a dozen slices of bacon on the side. “Lucky! Breakfast, y’ mangy cur!”

A scruffy, sand-colored dog with long hair and floppy ears poked its way into the kitchen. It padded over to the table in the kitchen, hopped up on the bench, and literally placed its paws on the table like it was waiting for food.

Tony was startled into a laugh. “That’s a neat trick.” He ignored the question about his situation and slid onto the bench next to the dog, offering a hand for it to sniff.

“Circus dog,” Barnes told him. “One of my friend’s. He’s off to Vegas with his girlfriend, left Lucky with me.” He gave Tony a glance, then added, semi-casually, “Clint used to live in his car, before he came here. Ran away. Stole the dog from the circus when Lucky broke his leg and the animal trainer was going to shoot the dog, rather than wait for him to heal up.”

Barnes stirred some sausage crumbles, onions, diced peppers, and cheese into the eggs before scraping the whole thing onto a couple of plates. Flipped the pancakes and plated them as well. Then he reached out without looking to snare a pair of coffee cups off the dishrack. “How do you take it?”

“Black is fine,” Tony said. Dear god, when was the last time he’d actually had coffee? Probably the day he’d left New York.

Barnes put a plate on the table in front of the dog. “Lucky, say grace.” The dog dipped his head, made a few low, barking noises and finished with a sharp nod before looking back up to Barnes for permission to actually eat. “Good boy. You can eat now.”

He put a plate in front of Tony, as well, along with a fork. Four pancakes smothered in syrup, bacon, a pile of scrambled eggs, and coffee.

Barnes sat down across from Tony with his own plate. “You got a name? You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want.”

“Tony.” That was probably safe enough. Tony picked up the fork in a hand that was shaking. It was hard to force himself to go slow, to swallow each bite before scooping up the next. God, it was good. Ambrosia. Better than any fancy restaurant Tony’d ever been to. Better than anything Tony had ever eaten before. “Uh, thanks,” he managed to say when the eggs were gone and he was starting on the pancakes. He could probably go for another two days just on this.

Barnes watched him eat, not intently. Certainly less eagerly than the dog, who had scarfed down his portion in short, slobbery bites and now had obvious designs on Tony’s bacon. Barnes was just watching. Like feeding Tony satisfied him, somehow. Reminded him, a little, of the way his childhood friend Jan had watched him when she'd turn him to face his reflection and see whatever outfit she'd picked for him.

“You good with that? There's more,” he said when Tony was trying to scrape up the molecules of syrup left on his plate. “or I can make you some burgers. For the road.”

Tony forced himself to put down the fork. “I can trade some work,” he offered. “I’m good with machines and tools. Could help with those tables out there or whatever you need.”

“Yeah?” Barnes asked. “They all need sanded down. Legs evened out. Struts checked. Check for wood rot. That kinda thing. Wanda’s gonna repaint ‘em for me. If you can do that while I run the kitchen… that'd be good. Take a few days instead of a couple of weeks.”

Days. _Days_ of food, and a spot to sleep where the cops wouldn’t run him off -- surely Barnes would let Tony keep sleeping on the porch if Tony was working for him. God, it was a chance, it was a _start_. Tony tried to catch his suddenly-short breath. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Barnes stood up, offered him a hand to shake. “Great.” when Tony took it, Barnes turned his hand to look. The contrast couldn't have been more obvious. Barnes was clean. Neat, trimmed nails, and while a little underdressed for the occasion, Barnes smelled like coffee and butter, not sweat. “How long you been on the run?” and his voice was kind. _Concerned_.

Tony was shaking in his core, and had to fight to keep it from vibrating into his hand, still gently clasped in Barnes’. “Uh. ‘Bout a week? I’ve been looking for work, I just--” He clamped his teeth shut, shocked at his own forthcoming. Something about those stormy, kind eyes had slipped right past all his defenses.

“Welcome to Dockside, Tony,” Barnes said. “I'm going up to the house an’ get ready for work. There's goggles and work gloves in the toolbox. Get yourself started. And, umm. Try not to scare Wanda when she comes in, okay? She's nervous, sometimes.”

Tony nodded. “Don’t scare anyone, right. I’ll just...” He climbed off the bench and took his plate and fork to the sink, then jogged back through the restaurant to the porch. He had work to do.

When he pulled the tarps off the tables, he saw they were definitely in need of some work. But that was okay, Tony could do this. There wasn’t anything complicated about this. Inspecting the wood and fixing the loosening joints and squaring the bottoms so they sat level. Sanding the wood until it was satiny smooth. His arms were aching with the effort after a couple of hours, but it felt good. Cleaner than the endless trudging down the road or through the sand.

“Hey,” someone said. Tony squinted as he looked up. He’d kind of lost track of the time. Customers came and went -- not as many as Tony might have thought with the location of the restaurant -- and a few times the dog had come out and flopped nearby, and then left again as soon as Tony turned the sander on.

The girl -- well, woman really, but she was so tiny she looked like a child -- had long, dark hair and a round, doll-like face. She wore a waitress’s apron, extremely skimpy shorts and a white tee that was at least a size too small and showed off her cleavage. Despite that, she was projecting an air of “don’t look at me” that was almost painful. “Bucky wanted me to ask you if you were hungry.”

Tony blinked at her, then looked up at the sun, which suggested it was well past noon. “Yeah, I could eat,” he agreed. He looked down at himself, covered in sweat and liberally festooned with sawdust. “Uh. Probably shouldn’t come inside like this, though.”

The girl made a huffing noise. “Come on, this way. Beach shower.” She led him off toward the far side of the outbuilding -- a closer inspection revealed it as a garage. One of the ones that no one ever actually parked in. There was a washer and dryer to one side near the door, and a stack of beach towels, one of which the girl liberated. There was also a tattered sofa and an old television perched on top of a dresser, a full Craftsman toolbox for working on cars, and, incongruously, stacks and stacks of blow-up kiddie wading pools.

The beach shower was pretty much as advertised; a pipe that curved over a cement block and drain with a battered privacy screen around it, probably meant for rinsing off sand after coming in from a swim.

“It’s cold,” she warned him, “but it’ll get some of the dirt off. I’ll hold your shirt, if you want to wash up some. I’m Wanda, by the way. Bucky probably told you.”

“He said not to scare you,” Tony said. So now Barnes had a first name, though what the hell kind of name was _Bucky?_ “This shirt might be pretty scary,” he added, “though mostly just for the smell.” He stripped it off and tossed it onto the nearest stack of stuff rather than make Wanda hold it.

She made a face. “Yeah,” she said, agreeably. “What size are you?”

“Uh, smedium, probably.” Tony ducked behind the privacy screen, kicked off his shoes and shucked his jeans. They needed to be rinsed out, but he didn’t want to wear them wet. Maybe later.

She picked up the tee with two fingers, like it might bite her. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” She walked off, the tee gingerly out in front of her. “It’s contaminated, I swear.” She turned the corner and a moment later, Tony heard the washing machine lid bang open and then closed again.

The cold water felt good, after the heat and sweat of working all morning in the humidity. Tony rinsed off thoroughly but quickly, not sure how long Wanda would be gone. Most of the sawdust swirled down the drain, and Tony ducked his head to get it out of his hair, too. When he looked up, he saw the towel draped over the edge of the screen, and pulled it down. He dried off as much as he could, and was struggling back into his jeans when he heard Wanda come back.

“Here,” she said, absently, tossing him a red tee over the privacy screen, the Dockside logo written in gold letters across the chest. “If you’ve got other clothes that need washed, I’ll start a load once I do a sweep of the kitchen, and they’ll be dry before dinner.” She smacked herself in the head then. “God, sorry, I’m an idiot, I meant to get your lunch order so I could tell Bucky what to make and I forgot. Burger okay? I can just grab one off the grill, and some chips? Or you want to wait a few more minutes for lunch?”

“Whatever’s easiest,” Tony said, tugging the shirt over his shoulders. “Burger and chips sounds great.”

“Kay,” she said, disappearing again.

When she brought it out to him, on the porch, it was not, exactly, a burger like he thought of them. In fact, there was a fried egg topping it, along with some sort of yellow paste that smelled like onions and didn’t look like mustard. There was also a bright pink hardboiled egg that was scarily like something a mutant easter bunny might have laid, on a side plate, along with a bag of chips, a Pepsi in a glass bottle, and an enormous pickle.

“Cheesy all the way,” she told him. “Someone sent it back.”

“Thanks,” he told her, even if he was a little dubious about a fried egg on top of a burger. But since his last meal before Dockside had come out of a Dumpster, he wasn’t about to be picky. He took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. “That’s actually pretty good,” he observed, and took another bite.

“Good,” she told him. “Dockside’s speciality. Ma Barnes used to make ‘em, and then Steve, back when he still worked here, and now Bucky’s manning the grill most of the time,” she told him. “I’ll get those dishcloths and stuff into the wash, pick up your stuff on my way by, if you need. Bucky said t’ make yourself at home. Take a break for a bit, if you want.”

Well, long enough to eat. Tony wasn’t about to give Barnes any reason to find fault with his work. He fished up his backpack from where he’d stashed it under the tarps and took out his meager collection of clothes -- second pair of jeans, a handful of shirts, and a few pairs of underwear. He left them in a pile for Wanda, and went back to his lunch.

He was just coming back from a drink and restroom break about mid afternoon when he discovered the table he had been working on was occupied by a tall, skinny guy with obviously dyed hair, brilliant white and ice blue. He was wearing casual clothing, and a button down over his tank top that advertised _Winesette’s Garden Center_ in neat stitching over his breast pocket. He consulted his phone, then looked up at Tony with a brash wink.

“Gonna put yourself outta work, slick,” he said, crossing one foot over the opposite knee.

“Uh. Hi?” Tony went back to replacing a set of rusted-out bolts holding the bench together.

“Hi,” the guy said. He leaned back against the picnic table, all cool ease, chewing his gum with a few loud snaps and smirking when Tony gave him the side-eye. “Wanda texted me, said there was a new guy hanging about. Thought I’d come walk her home, and give you the third degree.”

When Tony actually sat his tools down to look at the guy, he grinned again. It wasn’t quite an unfriendly grin; more like a cautious one. “What? You didn’t see that one coming?”

“You her boyfriend, then?” Tony guessed.

“Oh, _my god_ ,” the guy choked, spluttering, and actually spit out his gum. “No. No, dude, no, oh, my god. Wanda’s my _sister_. My twin sister. Oh, god, I need mouthwash or something. Dude. Not cool.” The guy was laughing, sort of, in between the gagging noises he was making.

Tony couldn’t help but chuckle along. “Okay, sorry, twin brother who looks nothing at all like her, I totally should have guessed.”

“Peter,” he said. He dug around in his pocket for his gum and folded another slice into his mouth. “Meetcha.”

“Tony, and same,” Tony returned. “I pass inspection?”

“Well, you’re not packing,” Peter said. “And Bucky can probably throw your ass down the stairs, if you try anything stupid. Look, Bucky gave my sister a job when he had no damn reason t’ do it and a lot of other people wouldn’t. So, don’t do anything stupid, okay? I took first place, long distance runner for the east coast. I will catch you, you got that, slick?” Peter didn’t look particularly threatening, long and lean, but there was a certain glint that promised a little bit of mayhem.

“Look, I’m just trying to do the job,” Tony sighed. “I’ve exchanged like six words with your sister, and she seems nice and all but I need to eat more than I need to get laid.”

“Pietro Django Maximoff,” Barnes said, casually leaning in the door as if he’d freaking apparated there, “are you giving my new employee a hard time?”

“Really? _Really_ , Bucky, you gotta full name me? That’s cold, dude,” Peter said. “And you’re tempting me to retaliate in kind.”

Barnes’s eyebrows went up. “That didn’t sound like no, to me. Did that sound like no to you, Tony? Is he giving you a hard time?”

Tony wondered why it even mattered. “I’m pretty sure he was done,” he said. He eyed Peter. “Gotta say, _slick_ , where I come from, if you wanna intimidate a guy, you’ve got to do better than _I run fast_.” He smirked a little, showing more confidence than he actually felt.

Barnes laughed. “Well, I s’pose we could threaten you with havin’ to eat Sam’s cooking, but you haven’t even met Sam yet.” He reached over and messed up Peter’s carefully disheveled hair until it was just messy, rather than I-just-rolled-out-of-my-sex-bed styled. “Stop bein’ a dick.” He turned to Tony. “And you, you’re off the clock for the day. Working with power tools while tired is a great way to end up short an arm or somethin’.”

Tony started to protest -- he’d worked longer hours on his own projects at home -- but he had to admit that Peter’s opening salvo about putting himself out of work had teeth. There was no reason not to let the job stretch, and the bench wasn’t going anywhere. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “I’ll, uh, walk down the beach or something for the evening.”

Barnes jerked his chin at Peter meaningfully and Tony had the distinct impression that the two of them were having a furious conversation in eyebrows and significant glances before Peter huffed noisily and said, “Oh, my god, _fine_. On your own head.” And, waving his arms wildly with exaggerated disgust, he stomped into the building.

“You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” Barnes asked, turning those stormsilver eyes on Tony after Peter was out of earshot.

“No, not really,” Tony said. Barnes already knew that. “Figured I should stay out of sight of paying customers, and all.”

“Jesus,” Barnes said, shaking his head. “Come on.” He sounded… not quite put out. Disgusted, but it didn’t seem to be directed at Tony. Once again, he didn’t look to see if Tony was following, just walked around the side of the building to a set of wooden stairs, climbed up, and tugged a door open on the second floor, above the garage.

“It’s a bit of a mess, but there’s a bed, shower, television. Full cable package, altho fucked if I know why, I ain’t watched it in years. Wash up, get some sleep. You can stay here, while you’re working.” Barnes didn’t quite look at him.

It was a whole apartment, a studio as big as the garage below. Bigger than some Tony had seen in New York. Tony stared at it, turning in a slow circle in the room until he was facing Barnes again. “Why?”

Barnes took a few minutes to drag his gaze up until he was looking Tony in the face. “Because it’s been a shitty week for me. An’ I can’t do anything about my situation. But yours is worse. And… I can do something for you. I know, you’re s’posed to help people for the sheer altruism of it, an’ there’s probably something wrong with me that I’m using it, a bit, to make myself feel better. But it doesn’t change that it’s a roof over your head and food in your stomach for a few days, does it? You can’t eat altruism. An’ you’ll be okay, an’ safe for a while, ‘til you’re ready to move on. Fair enough?”

That was... probably fair. And why was Tony looking this gift horse in the mouth? A real bed, even if only for a few nights. A door that locked, so he could _really_ sleep, not have to worry about being roused or stolen from. And good, solid meals. In return for a little handicraft. Tony thought he was getting the better end of the bargain, but... maybe it was okay, if Barnes was getting something else out of it, too. He nodded. “Okay. I’m... Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

“Back door lets into the kitchen, direct,” Barnes told him. “Come down when you’re hungry. Key should be in th’ bowl there--” He pointed at a somewhat lumpy -- obviously hand thrown -- brown pottery dish. He gave Tony a quick clap on the upper part of his arm and trudged back down the stairs, tucking his hair back into its sloppy little man-bun as he went.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky was going to kill Wanda, that was just as simple as it was.

She’d figured out damn quick that there was another reason he’d gone ahead and given the homeless guy a place to stay. Little witch. She’d flittered around him on and off, doing her thing. But also taking pictures every time Tony wasn’t watching.

And then, after she got off for the night, she’d sent a bunch of them to Bucky’s phone. Tony’s hands, holding a screwdriver. Tony bent over to check the stability of a table. Tony with his shirt off and his white belly almost blinding against dirty arms.

_U thnk im sum sort of prevert, dont u_

New text from Wanda:

_He’s cute  
Why you gotta be that way_

Bucky sighed. He’d be outright lying to himself if he said the guy wasn’t good looking, because he was, even under the ragged beard and the dirt and the clothes that looked like they hadn’t been washed in days. It just… wasn’t the sort of person he wanted to be. Doing something nice for someone, just so he didn’t have to feel bad about them moving on. Being moved on. Few years back, Virginia Beach had made loitering and panhandling against the law. If Tony got caught, the cops might arrest him.

_Wht way u thnk i am?_

New text from Wanda:

 _Nothing wrong with looking_  
_If you’re not being creepy about it_  
_You’re not being creepy about it._  
_(that’s in case you didn’t know because I know you and you’re probably already chewing your lip so stop it)_

Bucky removed his bottom lip from between his teeth.

_Witch._

New text from Wanda:

 _::witch emoji::_  
::tongue emoji::  
_Stop fretting and sleep_  
::zzzzs emoji::

Bucky thumbed his phone a few times. Becca, his sister, still hadn’t called him back. She never did with any promptness. Sometimes she didn’t call him back at all, but he really did need to speak with her. Decided it wasn’t worth the effort of calling her this late; she’d just be pissed. Or at work, still. ER nurses didn’t have what one might call regular hours.

He went through his texts from Wanda, gave each picture one last look, then deleted them all. He didn’t care what Wanda said. It was creepy.

“Fuck,” Bucky said. He tossed his phone on his nightstand, punched the remote for the light. He’d worry about it tomorrow. Rolled over, punched his pillow a few times, and went to sleep. It would be morning before he knew it.

Aaaaand it was. It seemed like Bucky had barely closed his eyes before his alarm was going off and the coffee pot was cheerfully percolating in the other room. What the hell did it know?

Bucky groaned, smacked the alarm, and buried his head under his pillow. He sort of missed the days when Ma would yell at him, and he’d be able to sleep another ten minutes until she came in to tell him to get his lazy backside out of bed.

Now he was the only person in the house and if he didn’t get up, he only had himself to blame. Being an adult… sucked. Well, Lucky would get him up eventually, anyway. The dog wasn’t too picky about it, so long as he got his first walk before seven.

Bucky prodded himself out of bed, tugged on his jeans, and cursed the day for existing.

But, coffee. He poured himself a mug, hesitated, then poured one for Tony.

Grabbed his smokes and headed outside for his morning ritual. Lucky slipped out the door and headed down to the beach. Bucky did a quick recon; Mrs. Frost down the road had been known to call the cops on both Bucky and Clint for letting Lucky run around without a leash. And while Officer Fury was a friend -- sort of -- he had finally threatened a fine, the last time, because Mrs. Frost was driving him batshit.

Bucky’s coffee mug from yesterday, still half full, was on the rail where he’d left it in his eagerness to bolt down the stairs. He’d figured it’d just been kids playing with his tools. Ha.

He dumped the cold stuff off the side of the rail and put the mug in front of the door. He’d probably trip over it later, but maybe it’d actually get back in the house. It was a theory.

He lit his smoke, padded across the walkway and tapped a few times with one knuckle on the apartment door. “Coffee,” he said, by way of announcing himself.

The was silence for a moment, and then rustling and thumping, and the sound of the lock being turned. And then the door opened on Tony, still sleep-rumpled and bleary-eyed, wearing a baggy pair of jeans that hung low on his hips. “D’you say coffee?”

“Yep,” Bucky told him. “Black, right?” He clamped his smoke between his lips and tipped his head to indicate the mugs on the rail. Did a quick check of the beach; Lucky was down romping in the waves, stupid dog. Stupid dog person for letting him run off without the leash, but hey, blaming the dog was always fun. He took a drag of his smoke, then whistled sharply for the dog. “Come on, y’idjit, you’re gonna get all smelly again.”

Tony half-stumbled out of the apartment and curled his hands around the mug Bucky had waved at. He held it to his mouth for a long moment before even drinking, just breathing in the smell. When he did take a drink, he swallowed with a sound that was bordering on obscene. “Oh, fuck me, that’s good,” he sighed.

Bucky bit down on the first three or four comments that came to mind; straight guys did not appreciate being hit on, even in jest. _There’s no harm in looking._

“Wanda has a thing about coffee,” Bucky said, like there was some need to explain it. “Don’t even ask her about it. She’ll talk your ear off about ethically sourced beans. Our weekend brunch is pretty busy, because we have good coffee. Sad to say, she got me converted. Used to drink instant out of a can, as long as it was high octane.”

Tony took another reverent sip. “That’s a damn shame,” he sighed. “I’m going to get spoiled on this, and then what am I supposed to do?”

Bucky was about to make a suggestion, probably a rude one, because there were only so many openings he could ignore before breakfast, when his cell rang.

“Oh, fucking finally, ‘scuse me a second,” Bucky said. “Bex. What the hell, you--”

“What’s the problem, Jimmy?” His sister sounded like she was driving, her phone squeezed between her shoulder and her ear, Atlanta traffic in the backdrop.

Bucky stubbed his smoke and tossed the butt into the can of sand. “Thought you might want to know,” he said, slow and as calm as he could manage, “that I’m selling Dockside.”

Bucky jerked the phone away from his ear as his sister started cheering. God, what a bitch, why did she have to be like that?

“Awesome, _finally_!” she bellowed. “You got a buyer yet, or just putting it on the market?”

“Are you driving?”

“‘Course,” Becca replied. “Well, it’s Atlanta, mostly I’m jus’ sitting here on the exit ramp. Sign says speed limit 60, but it’s fucking lying to me.”

“You work in the emergency room,” Bucky said, with exaggerated patience. “If anyone should know better than to drive and use the phone it should be you!”

“God, you sound like Dad, Jimmy. Should I ask you if you have a boyfriend yet?”

“No, I don’t have a boyfriend yet,” Bucky said, then swallowed again, eyes darting over to see what Tony’s reaction was going to be. _Fuck._ He wasn’t exactly in the closet, not this close to home, but he was… careful. Around strangers. It was safer that way.

Tony didn’t look disgusted. In fact, if the way his eyebrows twitched and his mouth curved behind the mug, he might even have been... intrigued?

“Great, Jimmy, that’s great,” Bex said, and was she even listening to him at all. “Tell you what. This is what we’ll do, okay? Let me talk to my super, and I’ll come up. Help you pack it all up. We’ll sell, and throw the biggest fucking party in Virginia Beach, yeah? Bye bye, albatross. Come down here, you can move in with me for a while, until you can get work, okay?”

Bucky almost choked on his coffee. He barely knew his sister. She was twelve years older than he was, and she’d left the city as soon as she could for as far away as she could get. (He knew this for a fact, because she’d applied for nursing jobs in California. And Texas. And he was pretty sure that if she thought she could handle the cold, she’d have applied in freaking Alaska while she was at it.)

“Look, I gotta go, Jimmy. I’ll call you when I can get some time off, okay, and… well, I need to tell you something anyway. Bye kiddo.”

Bucky stared at the phone. “That may well be the most surreal conversation I’ve ever had with my sister.”

“It sounded... intense,” Tony agreed. “You’re selling the place? That’s why all the sprucing up?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, sighing. He breathed out until there was nothing left in his lungs and then held it until his chest ached, until his vision blurred, before finally sucking air back in. “Yeah. Found out ‘bout a week ago that my dad took out a second mortgage on the place to pay off Ma’s medical bills. And that he didn’t make a single payment.”

That hurt, it hurt like betrayal. He knew his father had been giving up on life, hadn’t wanted anything to do with the restaurant after Ma had died, but he didn’t realize just how bad Big Jim had been trying to… Bucky didn’t even know. Apathy the place into the ground, maybe?

“Ouch,” Tony said, wincing as if in real sympathy. “That... has to suck. I’m sorry.”

Bucky managed a shrug. “Thanks,” he said. “Probably for the best, really. I’ve been trying to, you know, keep it going. This was my ma’s place, an’ I don’t know what the hell else I’m gonna do with my life. But I’ve had staffing problems of every sort and… yeah. It’s for the best.” He wondered if he said it enough times if he’d believe it. “I got a potential buyer coming in after Memorial Day. Need the place pretty and perfect by then, get the best price.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Tony agreed, but he was looking at Bucky over the rim of his mug like he could see the hole in Bucky’s heart. “I guess that’s... good. Sort of.”

If I was smart, Bucky thought. “I guess. Keep thinkin’ maybe I should just go ahead and shut down. Dedicate the time to get it ready for sale. But… I dunno, maybe I’m hopin’ for a miracle.”

Lucky took that opportunity to race up the stairs, shaking all over both of them, flecking them with salt water and sand.

“Or… yeah, not.”

***

There were no miracles.

Bucky stared at the spreadsheets again, rubbed his eyes. The ancient computer’s monitor dimmed, brightened, but the numbers didn’t change.

If he kept Dockside open for the summer, it wouldn’t matter. He’d maybe come out a few thousand over the current book balance, but he wouldn’t have the time to dedicate to repainting the building, refurbishing the place. He’d already called in an inspector. He didn’t want any surprises when it came time to sell.

To be fair, Bucky appreciated what Alex was planning to do, but Bucky wasn’t sure that it was a good idea. Or at least, if Alex was going to buy the restaurant, Bucky wanted it to be a good investment for him, not… a hand out.

He made one last mark in the books, closed it down. It was three; there wouldn’t be anyone on the floor, really. Dockside did a tidy business for brunch on the weekends, and Tuesday was good for peel-and-eat shrimp, but the rest of the time it was just slow. It’d get a little busier in the summer, it usually did, but Bucky thought this summer, maybe, was the last one. That he’d be here, at any rate.

“Staff meeting,” he said, on his way through the kitchen.

Sam grabbed a dishrag and wiped off soapy hands. Bucky checked the grill -- before lunch, he’d made up a half dozen burgers and crab cakes, which Dave was perfectly capable of assembling into the various short-list options for lunch. There were still two burgers, and the crab cakes hadn’t been touched.

He checked the floor. No one. Wanda was sitting at one of the tables, poking her phone. “Can you bring Tony in here, too, please?” Bucky took a seat at one of the newly refinished picnic tables, his hands sliding over the satiny surface. It was nice. Tony did good work. And Wanda had decorated the whole thing with paintings of seascapes and shells and fish. Quirky, but pretty.

Wanda came back in with Tony following behind her, his hands stained with rust and sawdust in his hair. It was a stupidly attractive look on him. He sat next to Wanda, holding himself stiffly, like he was afraid of touching the table too much now that it had been painted.

“So,” Bucky said, clapping his hands together in an absolutely false sense of good cheer. “I don’t think this comes as a surprise to anyone, but-- I’m going to sell the restaurant. The situation’s not looking too good.”

As he expected, there were a couple of muttered exclamations, but no one looked shocked. Sam didn’t even twitch. Wanda leaned on Sam for a moment, and Sam put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a quick, supportive hug.

“Now, I ain’t plannin’ on leaving anyone in th’ lurch,” Bucky continued. “At least for the next two months, you’ll all get your pay, regular as ever. Wanda, talk to me about what your tips look like so we can get that square. I’m going to need to spruce the place up, and you’ll all get a bonus once the sale goes through. Anyone who wants to use this time to make extra money, I can use the help with getting everything cleaned, repaired, and ready. Anyone who doesn’t, that’s fine, too. You’ll have most of the summer to find other work, and I wish you all the best of luck. Any questions?”

Bucky already had the beginnings of a list; things to do, people to call. The food in the pantry and freezer would need to be inventoried. Services cancelled. The whole building needed to be scraped and repainted.

Dave gave him a quick grin and tipped his fingers, but bowed out of anything more physically taxing than sweeping the floor. Gave his thanks, and headed out. Bucky hadn’t expected any different.

Wanda excused herself after a few minutes of letting it sink in. She’d probably come back to help with the close-down, but Bucky knew her pretty well at this point. She was going to go have a nervous breakdown somewhere, and Bucky couldn’t help with that. He was shit at providing comfort, and he was the last person she was going to want to talk to right now anyway. He blinked a few times and didn’t watch her leave.

Tony did watch her leave, and it looked for a moment like he might follow. Then he glanced back at Bucky. “Am I staying, or should I move on? I know I’m not regular staff.”

Bucky sighed. “You do good work,” he said. “If you want to stay, there’s a lot of work. I can pay. There’s a discretionary budget that I have aside, for repairs and the like. Contract work. Personal stuff, too. I’ll want to prep the house, too. Pretty sure th’ new owner won’t want to live here.” Not even if Alex took over management of the place himself, and he was almost positive that Alex wasn’t going to do _that._ “Well, I suppose someone might put the places up as an Air BnB or something. I don’t know.” He took a deep breath and reminded himself that Tony did not care, did not need his life story and history. “Anyway, there’s work. Might be able to give you a little cushion, for wherever you’re heading.”

Tony nodded. “Okay. I’m all in, then. Whatever you need.” Then he was gone, sliding off the bench and heading off to find Wanda, wherever she’d gone.

It took him a few minutes, just sitting there in his empty place, to gather some strength to stand up. Bucky took a few deep breaths -- it didn’t help -- and went back into his office. Started working out the lists of things that needed to be done.

First thing he did was make up a hand-lettered sign. He’d get a better one later.

_Closed until further notice._

Hung it in the window and locked the front door.

_Fuck._


	4. Chapter 4

Tony looked in the garage and didn’t see anything, and he almost left, but then he heard her too-fast breathing. He found Wanda in the very back of the garage, hiding behind a stack of kiddie pools, with one of them pulled over her head like a child’s fort. Tony pushed past a pile of boxes and leaned against the wall, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He listened to her breathing for a while, and finally said, “You’ve been here a while, huh?”

“Blue, seasalt, dust, concrete,” she said, then looked up at him. “A few years. First job. Day after my eighteenth birthday, and no sooner. Can’t serve liquor underage, and Bucky didn’t have another staffer just to deliver drinks. Pull up a pool.” She patted the half-inflated pool next to her.

Tony slid down the wall to sit on the squashy pool, leaned his elbows on his knees. Wanda had been nothing but kind to him; the least he could do was let her talk through her panic. Besides, she might add another piece to the puzzle that was Barnes.

“I’m okay,” she said, breathy with a distinct side order of _not-actually-okay_. “Peter’s okay. We’re okay. We’re going to be okay.” She stared at her knees, pulled up so she had her arms wrapped around her calves. “Are… you. Are you staying? For a bit?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. He wasn’t sure whether she meant now, through her panic, or for the renovations, but the answer was the same, either way. “I kind of like it here.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said. That could have meant Dockside, or her little fortress under the pools, but the answer was probably still the same. “Peter’s okay, you know. He’s okay, now. He’s been working for a few years. I think he’s okay. Sometimes he’s _not_. Sometimes _I’m_ not. But we’ll figure it out. Bucky helped us out. I don’t know what I’m going to do now. Everything else is so far away, and I don’t drive.” Wanda glanced at him. “Can’t drive. Makes me too nervous. Our mom… You know, Bucky didn’t have to give me this job. No one would have thought he would. After what Peter did.”

“What did he do?”

“Screwed up,” Wanda said. “Friend of his got in some shit and ran off. Asked Peter to give him an alibi. Peter says sure, no problem, you were here all evening. We were training, like we do. Like you do, for friends, right? You do that for friends. Lie to the cops. It’s just a thing, right?”

“Sure,” Tony agreed. “Cops don’t need to know everything.”

“Turned out that Peter’s friend left Bucky at the scene. Kurt, he… uh, hung around with some older guys, Bucky and Bucky’s boyfriend at the time. Was drinking underage. Mighta made a play for Bucky’s man, and then got maybe more than he bargained for. Brock… he wasn’t a nice man. Bucky made the guy stop; Kurt was like… fourteen, fifteen, something like that. Shouldn’t have been hanging with them. Bars and… stuff. So Brock tells everyone that Bucky assaulted him, you know. Like sexually. Bucky did time for it. Pretty nasty thing.” Wanda was studying her hands now. “Bucky pled the charges down to just assault, like, you know, a bar fight.”

Tony’s brain was practically smoking, putting together those pieces and seeing the shapes of the things Wanda hadn’t said. “And if Peter hadn’t given his friend an alibi, then Barnes might’ve gotten off. Maybe even turned it around so the actual asshole went to jail instead. Yeah, I can see how that might result in some hard feelings. But he didn’t see it that way?”

“Bucky always sees things different,” Wanda said. She wiped her cheeks on her knees. “Kurt didn’t mean to hurt anybody, he was just scared. What people would think of him. What his parents would think. They’re like, born-again, god-fearing, Bible beater types. If they knew he’d been… you know. ” She made a vague gesture that didn’t mean anything, but yeah. Tony knew.

He nodded. “So he gave you the job anyway, and you’ve been here ever since?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s safe, here. You know, lotta bosses, they just, customer’s always right, you know? My friends talk. Not Bucky. He’s stood up for me. Why people think they can touch you, or yell at you, or call you names, just ‘cause you’re in service. It’s service, not _service_. You know?”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, even if he’d never really been in quite that position. He’d seen people treat waitstaff like shit, though, and always wondered why they didn’t seem to realize those were _people_. “You’ll find something, though. You’re smart and quick and the customers like you.”

Wanda made a soft, snorting noise. “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, _people like me_!” She had a little sing-song voice going, and by the time she got to the end of the little self-affirmation mantra, she was laughing. “I’m… gonna walk home and have a couple glasses of wine. Tell Bucky my hangover and I will be back tomorrow, to help, you know, paint or whatever.”

“You got it,” Tony said. He clambered to his feet and offered her a hand up. “I’ll be here.”

“Here, come here,” she said, pulling her phone out. “Selfie.” She slid one arm around Tony’s waist and snapped a few photos, the flash brilliant and blinding in the dim garage. “Told some of my friends about you. You know, online stuff. I don’t have-- anyway, see you tomorrow.”

Tony rubbed at his eyes, even though he knew it wouldn’t make the spots from the flash go away any faster. “Don’t know why your friends would want to see me like this,” he said. “I still have sawdust in my hair, and I haven’t shaved in like three weeks now.”

Wanda blinked at him. “Do you not know that, you’re like, _movie-star_ gorgeous? Have you even seen yourself? Jesus, it’s a wonder I don’t go blind, between you and Bucky. He’s a pretty, pretty man. But you’re close. Bet you clean up nice.” She made a gesture with one hand that was probably the female equivalent to jerking it, which was both flattering and deeply embarrassing at the same time.

“Definitely better when I’ve cleaned up. First thing I’m doing when Bucky pays me is buy a razor.” Tony grinned and gently pushed her toward the door. “Go on, get your wine.”

Wanda nodded, leaned in and gave him a weird sort of sideways hug. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed,” she told him, earnestly, and then jogged off, her long hair bouncing behind her.

What the hell did _that_ mean?

***

Bucky was getting a headache -- fuck _getting_. He _had_ a headache and was getting a worse one -- when it finally came to his attention that it was dark as shit in his office. He’d been working, using the computer’s monitor and natural sunlight so long that he hadn’t even noticed the sun going down.

Jesus. No wonder he felt all wobbly. Which meant if he was hungry, Tony was probably hungrier.

Bucky pushed away from his desk and went looking for his… helper? Stray? Whatever. There weren’t words to put people in nice little boxes. Like Steve, he thought. His foster brother, the best friend that he never spoke to anymore. He sighed. He should call Steve, probably. If nothing else, Steve still had some things tucked away in Becca’s old room, back from when Bucky’s parents were his foster folks.

He made up a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches on the grill, and plated them up with chips and pickles, and went looking for Tony. He walked out onto the front porch and practically tripped over the man. He was sitting on the stairs, looking out toward sea, idly scratching Lucky’s ears. A few stars were speckling the horizon. “Hey.”

“Hey there,” Tony said. He scooted to the side. “Pull up a step. Or did you need me for something?”

Bucky practically threw himself down, getting a scrape on his back for his trouble. He handed over one plate to Tony, then took a bite of his own sandwich. “Thinkin’ about gettin’ blackout drunk an’ doing something really stupid. I miss Clint. I bet he’d have some ideas. Kid likes climbin’ buildings and base jumping for fun. What… what do you do, you know. For fun?”

“Not climbing buildings or base jumping,” Tony said, but Bucky could hear the smile in his voice. “I don’t know. Used to be, tinkering and building things was my hobby.”

“Tinkerin’ and building shit, huh? Fixin’ tools. My Ma woulda loved you,” Bucky said. “She built this place, herself, you know. Did the architecture work, everything. Bought the land back in the seventies, when it was dirt cheap.” He jerked his chin down toward the North Carolina border, not that Tony had any idea where he was indicating. “She grew up not far from here in a literal tar-paper shack. If she was still around, bet she’d have taken one look at you an’ said, Jimmy Barnes, you go ask that nice fella out. We need someone like him in th’ family.”

Tony laughed. “She sounds like a hell of a lady.” He finished off his sandwich, then tossed the last couple of chips for Lucky to catch -- the dog ate damn near anything -- and set his plate aside. He slanted a look at Bucky, then leaned back on his elbows, stretching out his legs to show off the length of his body. “Not sure I’d go with a guy who only wanted me for my tinkering and fixing, though.”

_You need to have a beer or six and get laid._ Yeah, you know it, Sammy, Bucky carried on that mental conversation, eying Tony speculatively. “Gone on first dates with less reason,” Bucky said. “Went on a date with one guy after nearly gettin’ trampled by him in a mosh pit.” That had been fun. Big, blonde, Norweigan godchild who’d pushed Bucky off his feet against a wall and given him an absolute top-rated blowjob. He paused. “Do, uh, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. You date guys?”

“Sure,” Tony said, like it was easy. “Guys, girls, whatever. Everyone’s got fun parts.”

“Dunno about that,” Bucky said. “I only ever kissed one girl, and she was only tryin’ to make my foster brother jealous. Worked a charm for her. Steve didn’t speak to me for _days_.” Bucky sighed. He wished it was that easy to fix these days. “He was quick enough to get over it, though, when she started kissin’ him instead. We were… damn, all of thirteen or so, I think. Playin’ spin the bottle, some stupid kids’ thing.”

Tony snorted. “Stupid kid stuff doesn’t even count. My ex was a gold-star gay, too.”

Bucky gave Tony a little side eye on that. “You know, that shit’s like virginity. Don’t mean nothin’. Stupid standard to judge someone for, like thinkin’ your number should be high, but not too high, because then you’re just a slut.” He shook his head. “Sorry, not fair of me t’ make you listen to my rants.”

“You can rant all you want,” Tony said. “But I’m more curious about where you were going, that you needed to know whether I date guys.”

“Do you want to? Get drunk an’ do something stupid, I mean. Sandbridge’s kinda quiet, least til the Season gets well underway, but there’s Norfolk an’ Waterside, an’ Ghent and stuff. Bars, or all night paintball, or ghost tours over in Portsmouth. Stupid shit, but… I guess, would you like to go on a date. With, erm. Me.”

Tony cocked his head, though what he could see of Bucky in the dim light was an open question. “Sure,” Tony said after a moment. “As long as you don’t mind that I don’t have a single cent to my name.”

“Nah, it's good,” Bucky said. “My salary isn't mixed up in the restaurant. That's the whole reason to have a company, you know."

“Well, then.” Tony stretched, revealing a strip of pale skin between jeans and shirt, then rolled to his feet. “Let’s go be stupid, then.”

***

Barnes poked his phone a few times, eyed Tony speculatively.  “How do you feel about boats, beers, and bad movies?”

Tony hadn’t done anything just for fun in weeks -- and even before that, for years, his entertainment had been dictated by Ty, though he hadn’t realized that at first. “What kind of bad movies?” he asked, not even because he cared so much as because he wanted to see how Barnes reacted to pushback.

More phone poking. “Tonight's bad movie is Jupiter Ascending… says Gabe. Admission is either a fifth of something or a six pack. No American beer allowed on Junior’s boat. That's been the rule for as long as he's owned that floating disaster.”

Oh, someone Barnes knew personally. This was either going to be a great time or the start of a horror movie. Well, the plan was to be stupid; might as well go all in. “Sounds great,” Tony said.

“Great. Booze, snacks. Marina." He grinned. “you can swim, yeah? Don't always happen but not never has someone ended up in the drink."

“Yep,” Tony agreed. “I can even swim drunk. A buddy and I went skinny dipping in the Charles River once to try to impress some girls. We were very drunk.”

Tony had been on yachts, back when he still lived with his father. Junior's houseboat was nothing like that. It was, in fact, more of a barge, quite long, and looked like someone had thrown a hobbit hole on a raft and said good enough.

It was weirdly charming, even if Tony couldn't quite figure out how to _steer_ it.

“How does it... work?” Tony asked, grinning at the owner. Barnes was lurking close, hovering a little, like he wasn’t sure how Tony would mix with his old friends.

“Finest naval engineering, spare theater scenery, and--"

“Frequent goat sacrifices to the elder gods. Oh great Cthulhu. Timothy Dugan, very much at your service."

“But you can call him Dum Dum. Everybody else does,” Barnes said. “Even his boyfriend, who’s bound to be around here somewhere. Dum, this is Tony. He's helping me refurb.”

“Fresh fish,” Junior leered. “He comes bearing gifts. Thanks Bucky, I'll take him from here.”

“For the tour, not the sacrifices,” Barnes clarified. “I need ‘im.”

Tony handed over the drinks that they’d stopped to buy, and willingly followed Dugan -- Dum Dum? Really? -- on the tour. Peculiar appearance aside, it was a very neat little boat, probably in need of a paint job, but otherwise well-kept. The tour didn’t take very long, and then Dum Dum was returning Tony to Barnes’ side with the declaration, “There we are, un-sacrificed and only slightly molested.”

Tony rolled his eyes, because he’d figured out right away that was the sort of clowning that Barnes’ friends found funny, and any other reaction was likely to earn him a thorough, if probably good-spirited, mocking.

They waited at the dock for one more late comer, a buxom brunette with a low cut tee and a black leather jacket (and on fleek winged eyeliner) who introduced herself as L.T. Barnes kissed both her cheeks and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You look perfect,” he told her. “It's a good look. I love the jacket.”

“Shut up, Bucky,” she pushed at him, laughing. “You’re a pretty man. Too pretty for me. I like em big and lots of chest hair."

Junior cast off and the party moved into the living room. A wide screen tv took up one wall and there were two sofas crammed against the other, bolted to the floor. Tony guessed they probably didn't move the furniture much. Even so, there were more people than seats.

“Here, best seat in the house,” Dum Dum told Tony, shoving him into Barnes’ lap. Barnes grunted, a not particularly manly squeak. “He wants sitting on sometimes."

“You guys are a subtle as a brick to the face,” Barnes complained, but put his hand on Tony’s hip.

That was enough of a “stay” for Tony, so he made a great show of wriggling into a more comfortable position. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, more for the clowning friends than for Barnes’ benefit.

Barnes dug out the flask of vodka he'd brought and sweet talked L.T. into slicing an orange for him. He knocked back a few shots, followed with the orange, and then licked his fingers before offering the bottle to Tony.

Tony took a couple of hits off the bottle. It burned nicely going down, and it wasn’t until he’d taken a third swallow that Tony realized he was probably going to get lit _fast_ ; even with Barnes feeding him three squares a day, he’d been burning a lot of calories on the work, and he’d probably dropped ten to fifteen percent of his weight in the weeks since he’d left New York. And he hadn’t exactly been stocky to begin with.

It was nice, though, the warm fuzziness of the alcohol glowing through his body. They passed the bottle back and forth another couple of times, and Tony felt loose enough to relax back against Barnes’ chest. It was a nice chest, broad and strong, with well-muscled shoulders perfect for resting a more-than-slightly tipsy head. He stopped even paying attention to the movie, really, just feeling Barnes breathe, the soft thrum of Barnes’ heart beating. Everything was warm, not like the already-scorching near-summer sun, but in a safe and protected kind of way.

It took a while to realize that Barnes was nuzzling at Tony’s hair around his ear, fingers tracing circles against Tony’s hip. “Royalty detecting bees. Really, Dum?” Barnes and some of the others were razzing the film. Debating its merits and the scene chewing ability of Eddie Redmayne.

“Come on, kitten,” Barnes told him. “Let's get you some fresh air before you fall asleep and I gotta carry your ass home.”

Tony made a whining sound at having to move, but let Barnes gently push him upright, and then he managed to stand up on his own. The world tilted, but Tony wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the movement of the boat. He followed Barnes out onto the deck, where it had gotten thankfully somewhat cooler since they’d gone in to watch the movie.

Tony leaned against the rail, letting it hold him up as he watched the lights dance on the waves. “This is nice,” he said, not entirely sure of his enunciation. “Thanks.”

“Hmmmm,” Barnes managed, fingers on the small of Tony’s back. “Said I was gonna do somethin’ stupid.” He put one finger on Tony’s chin and tipped his head. Gently, slow, giving Tony plenty of time to step back or protest, lowered his mouth in Tony’s direction.

Tony lifted his chin a little further, reaching up to capture that mouth with its sinfully perfect lips.

Barnes kissed him slow and sweet and perfect, like they had nothing else to do and all night to do it in. Little nips and flicks on his tongue against the crease of Tony’s mouth until he opened to it. One hand cupped Tony’s jaw, holding him captive.

“Christ,” Barnes swore when he finally pulled back to breathe. “that was--”

Tony wasn't sure what it was, because all of a sudden Barnes wasn't there at all. There was a yell and a loud splash and rather a lot of raucous laughter. Dum Dum was brushing his hands off like he'd just taken out the trash.

“Shi-- Oh my god,” Tony cursed, and he leaned over the rail. “You okay?”

“Son of a bitch!” Barnes spluttered. He splashed for a moment then his shoes came sailing back onto the boat with impressive accuracy, forcing Dum Dum to duck for cover.

 More splashing and up came a soaked tee and a pair of jeans to land on the deck. “Lost my socks, you asshole,” Barnes complained.

Tony watched Barnes tread water for a few moments, then decided, _fuck it_. He toed off his shoes and stuffed his socks in them, then shed his shirt and jeans. “Swim party!” he announced, and climbed over the railing to jump into the water, laughing hard enough that he got a mouthful of brackish water.

He felt lighter somehow, in the water, floating with greater ease. Barnes disappeared beneath the surface and Tony could feel him, moving near Tony’s legs.

Tony hooked a thumb in the top of his briefs, because he really did _not_ need to be pantsed in front of a whole crew of people he’d only just met, but he didn’t try to swim away, just watched, waiting for Barnes to emerge.

There was a hand on his ankle that clasped tight for a second and then pulled, hard. Barely time for a breath before Barnes yanked him under water, hands moving up Tony's body like Barnes was using him as a ladder to the surface.

Tony yelped as he was pulled under, barely clamping his mouth shut as the water closed over his head. He grabbed for Barnes, managed to snag an arm with one hand and drag the other hand down Barnes’ torso (probably; it was dark and confusing). He bobbed to the surface a moment later and cursed, mostly because it was expected. “Asshole,” he accused Barnes, who was floating there with a smug grin on his lips.

Barnes opened his mouth to say something else and lost it as Dum Dum cannonballed them.

“Cocksucker,” Barnes accused him, then, “Jesus Christ, Dum, don't you ever wear drawers?”

“Not if it’s a good night!” Dum Dum responded, waggling his eyebrows lasciviously.

Tony cracked up so hard he couldn’t keep treading water. He wrapped his arms around Barnes’ neck for support and giggled hysterically against Barnes’ neck.

A few other people dove in, in various states of undress. Dum Dum’s boyfriend, Gabe, tossed a bunch of floaties off the side, and Barnes engaged in a brief tug-of-war over a crab-shaped beach toy before Pinkie yielded it up. L.T. did not get in the water, but she did peel off her shoes and rolled up her jeans, letting her toes drag off the end, and collected kisses like some sort of mermaid ticket-taker as people wanted to use the ladder to get back aboard. Barnes abandoned Tony a few times to climb up and do more and more athletic dives off the side of the boat. Tony didn’t mind; the water sheeting off Barnes’ body as he crossed the deck, combined with the view of nearly-see-thru satin boxers that clung to the man’s thighs as he moved, was a sight worth savoring.

The fourth or fifth time Barnes executed a fancy dive and came up near Tony, Tony smirked at him. “You always this showy, or are you trying to impress?”

“ _Are_ you impressed?” Barnes asked. He drew Tony in, hooking one of Tony’s legs over his hip and then pushing them both against the side of the boat, where he could grab the rail.

Tony let the water grind them together, enjoying the touch and the lazy inevitability of their flirting. “You’re very impressive,” he admitted.

“Well, then, I was just bein’ a show off,” he said, smirk dusting his lips again. His voice got huskier, and he leaned Tony back in the water until Tony was practically floating, toes up and the ocean warm around him. “Gonna kiss you again.” Barnes kept his hand hooked through the rail, but the rest of him floated, legs tangled with Tony’s, and he cupped his other hand at the back of Tony’s neck, keeping his face out of the water.

He kissed Tony, a little more urgently than before, tongue pressing in to taste and explore. He was flavored by salt water and a little remaining orange. Lips velvet soft dragged across Tony’s mouth, exploring and learning. Delicious, silken licks opened Tony’s mouth up, and Barnes kissed him like coming home.

Tony moaned into it; _damn_ , but the man could kiss. He angled his head and met Barnes’ tongue with his own, a dance of heat and wet, more intoxicating than the drink had been. Distantly, he heard whistling and catcalling from the others, but he didn’t care. There was no reason to direct his attention anywhere else. Tony reached up, winding his fingers in Barnes’ wet hair, clinging with the other hand to one muscled shoulder, the skin smooth over firm muscle.

A break for breath, and Tony had to bite down a whimper, and stop himself from chasing after more. He let out a sigh and blinked the salt water from his eyelashes. “Your kissing is _way_ more impressive than your diving.”

“Yeah?” Barnes looked actually delighted, as if he didn’t know. As if no one had ever said it before, which seemed somehow unreal. Even with the deep shadows and strange light angles cast from the boat, it looked like Barnes was actually blushing, his cheeks going dark and his eyelids fluttered down to shield his gaze. “I… uh. Yeah, you’re pretty good at it, yourself. I mean, I like kissing you.”

“We should do more of it,” Tony said. “Definitely. Very soon. Though possibly not right this instant, because I don’t know how _you_ feel about showing off your boner to your friends, but I don’t think I’m quite at that level yet.”

Barnes ran one hand over his face, swiping water away. “Yeah, you, er, might be right about that. Least your clothes are still dry. Jesus, remind me t’ dump Dum in the Hague one of these days. You ready t’ get out?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Tony reached under the water and adjusted himself a little. He wasn’t hard yet, but his dick had definitely started taking interest in things. He made his way over to the ladder and climbed up onto the deck, hyper-aware of Barnes at his back, close enough to feel the heat radiating off the man. He dutifully kissed L.T.’s cheek and accepted a towel from Junior, scrubbing it over his head.

L.T. took her kiss from Bucky, too, then eyed them both speculatively. Her voice took on a nasal quality and she said, “Oh, my _god_ , Bucky, look at his butt. I can’t believe it’s like just so _round_ , it’s like out there…”

Barnes did a few motions with his hips that looked like he might have spent time in a dance studio, dropped a wink and sang, “My anaconda don’t want none… unless you got buns, hon.” He straightened up, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist hastily. “Now, hush up an’ behave. Seriously. Was you raised in a _barn_ or what?”

Tony watched the little dark flush climb Barnes’ neck and grinned. He’d known since he was fifteen that his ass was his best feature -- Jan had made sure to tell him that, repeatedly. He did a little shimmy as he pulled his jeans back on. “It may be too late for behaving,” he said, mock-sorrowful.

“Yeah, you’re prob’ly right,” Barnes said, disappearing under a second towel as he stripped water out of his hair. “They ain’t had nobody mindin’ the lot of ‘em since they were all in high school, but I don’t think a single one of ‘em’s grown up none.”

“Well, fuck that noise, Bucky, who wants to do that?” L.T. asked, looking offended. “Growing old is mandatory. Growing up? _Optional!_ ”

“That joke is old,” Barnes pointed out, rubbing at his arms. The wind was picking up and his skin rippled with gooseflesh. He looked mournfully down at his wet clothes. “Hate you, Dum!” he yelled, shaking his fist at the guys still swimming. “Asshole.”

Dum made an exceptionally crude hand gesture near his mouth, indicating what Barnes could do with his pent up aggression. Which had Barnes’s cheeks pinking again as he gave Tony a speculative glance.

Tony raised his eyebrows when Barnes looked his way, and rather deliberately licked the salt off his bottom lip.

Barnes gave an all over shiver, jaw clenching up and his eyes fluttered shut, before he deliberately faced away, wringing his sopping clothes out off the side of the boat. “Thank Christ I remembered t’ leave my shit out in th’ truck. I don’t think even rice’d save a phone from salt water.” He flapped his jeans a few times, and then winced, climbing back into them. It took quite a bit more effort than looked comfortable, and he flinched before deciding to just leave the fly open, which added a rather pornagraphic appeal to his look.

Tony let himself enjoy the view, making sure Barnes caught him looking. Barnes blushing was the cutest thing Tony had ever seen, he was pretty sure. And the anticipation was as fun as the main event. Sometimes _more_ fun, honestly, because no matter how hot someone was, compatibility in bed was a thing.

Most of the others were climbing back aboard, trading cheerful insults with each other and Barnes. Which reminded Tony...

“What the hell _is_ your name, anyway?” he asked. “Is it Bucky, or is it Jimmy?”

If he was going to have the man’s dick in his mouth later, he figured he should know the guy’s name.

“It’s James, actually,” Barnes said. He was still shirtless, his shoes tipped upside down, which probably wasn’t going to save anything. “James Buchanan. After a president nobody ever heard of, right? Great. James the third, even. _Ug_. People called my dad Big Jim, an’ that made me little Jim. Which I hate. Most of my friends call me Bucky, unless they’re tryin’ to get a rise out of me.”

“Mm,” Tony hummed. “I’ll get a rise out of you in other ways, I think. Bucky.”

“Definitely to be preferred,” Barnes-- no, Bucky, said. He stole a kiss, a quick peck on the side of Tony’s mouth, which would have been completely innocent, sweet, almost, except his tongue snuck out at the last second to graze the tender join of Tony’s lip. “Not here. I didn’t plan well, for you to be so damn appealing. No privacy. An’ while I won’t deny never havin’ got caught with my pants around my ankles, I ain’t aimin’ to have a repeat of that experience.”

Tony held his hands up, all innocence. “I’ll be good,” he lied.

Bucky gave him a heated stare. “Yeah, I’ll just _bet_ you will be.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly car smut, blowjobs and the like. 
> 
> Skip to end notes for the little bit of plot stuff that sneaks in there

By the time Junior moored back up at the marina, Bucky was pretty sure being flayed alive might have been easier. Tony was not good, he was not innocent, he was a damn tease is what he was. All the sexually charged tension Bucky could want, combined with _accidental_ brushes and fiery looks and sweet kisses. Wrapped up in a delicious package.

Bucky hadn’t been this aware of his dick since middle school. And with his legs stuffed in clammy, uncomfortable jeans, toes cringing away from the insides of his wet sneakers and his chest bare because he couldn’t face putting on one more piece of wet clothing. He’d have thought, maybe, that would have damped down on his ardor just a little bit, but no. He had at least half a stiffie for the entire trip back to shore. His fucking jeans were damn well _molded_ around his cock at the moment.

And every time Tony leaned in, Bucky couldn’t help but surrender to that mouth, even though he knew it was only making things worse. Tony was so goddamn sweet, it was like some sort of wet dream. Eager, giving, warm, and generous. Bucky wasn’t quite sure any of it was real.

Well, except for the epic wedgie he had creeping up his ass. Ug. Wet underwear, wet jeans, wet shoes. He felt like a pissed off feral cat.

They waved goodbye to the others, calling out a few final choice insults, and made their way through the parking lot to Bucky’s truck. Bucky was so occupied with shaking out his damp leg that he didn’t quite notice that Tony was following him around to the driver’s side instead of climbing into the cab on the passenger’s side.

When he did look up, Tony was crowding him up against the side of the truck. “Can’t help but notice you’ve got a back seat in this thing,” he purred, leaning into Bucky with his whole body. “Thought I’d see if I could make the drive back a little more... comfortable for you.”

“Christ,” Bucky swore, unable to resist the urge to rock up against Tony, his hands going down to rest on that perfectly gorgeous ass. “You are Satan incarnate, ain’tcha? Damn temptation’s what you are.”

“You’ve been walking around all night with no shirt on and your jeans _plastered_ to your thighs so tight I can see the muscle moving, and _I’m_ the temptation? ...Sure, okay, let’s go with that. C’mon, Bucky, get in the truck, let me blow you.”

Let… _let_ him? Holy fuck, every muscle that was holding Bucky upright turned into water. He let himself sag against his aging pickup for a few minutes. “ _Let you…_ ” Bucky repeated, not able to get any strength in his voice at all, it came out a pleading little whisper that he would have felt ashamed of, except Tony’s mouth was open with anticipation and Tony actually licked his goddamn lip again, as if he was imagining what it would be like. “Yeah, yeah, okay, yeah.” He opened the rear door and hopped up to sprawl across the bench seat in the back. The faux leather stitching pressed against his skin and Bucky was aware of every set of nerve endings in his body as Tony climbed in after him.

Tony didn’t waste any time at all, squirming his way between Bucky’s thighs and peeling down the tops of Bucky’s jeans, and the expression on his face was gleeful anticipation.

Bucky didn’t have very long to consider that, because as soon as his cock was freed, Tony had all but swallowed it, a long, slow plunge of _hot_ and _wet_ and _oh my god_. Tony’s tongue slid over his skin, teasing at the tip and pressing against the vein, and the sound Tony made was exactly like and exactly _not at all_ like the sound he made with the first sip of coffee in the morning.

Tony pulled back up and tugged at Bucky’s pants some more, getting them just far enough down to trap his thighs. “Fuck, you taste even better than I thought you would,” Tony groaned. He curled a hand around the base of Bucky’s cock and dove back in like sucking Bucky off was the most amazing, wonderful thing he’d ever done.

Bucky wasn’t sure his spine touched the back of the seat at all, the way he arched up into it, entirely out of control. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. One wrist went to his mouth as he whimpered and begged and _pleaded_ , teeth scraping against his own skin in an effort to keep quiet. The other hand came down in Tony’s tangle of dark curls, fingers threading through the locks.

Tony’s mouth was lush, heated and silky, his tongue swirling over Bucky’s skin with delicious torment. This was going to be over embarrassingly quickly if he kept -- holy fuck, what the hell was he doing? Tony’s tongue flicked over, into Bucky’s slit and that was so sensitive, so brutally carnal that Bucky had to _bite down_ on his arm to keep from screaming.  

Tony hummed in satisfaction, and then _kept humming_ , that soft vibration of his mouth doing terrible, drastic things to Bucky. His tongue wasn’t letting up at all, and now his hand was curling gently around Bucky’s balls, stroking and rolling them, oh _god_. He was taking Bucky deeper with each careful thrust, it seemed like, his beard scraping perfectly against Bucky’s skin, his breath spilling warm against Bucky’s belly.

His brain stuttered and tried to keep up with the whole bushel basket of sensation that Tony was unloading on him. He didn’t, he couldn’t, it _never…_ It wasn’t like Bucky hadn’t had sex before, but this… this was so far beyond what he was used to, he’d almost forgotten what it was like to take a new lover, to have someone willing, even _eager_ to please. “Oh, my god,” he managed, a bare whisper, then he was tossing his head back, eyes squeezed shut as every nerve in his body lit on fire. “Tony, I’m--” He reached down, out of habit, to catch his spill, but Tony didn’t _goddamn stop_.

Tony made another one of those indescribably _satisfied_ sounds as Bucky came, and swallowed around him. And swallowed again, that devilish tongue licking up every drop, until Bucky was starting to flinch from overstimulation. Then he pulled carefully away, wiping his hand down over his beard to clean up stray drops, and propped his chin on Bucky’s thigh. “Feel better?”

“Holy fuck…” Bucky said. He couldn’t _move_ , he felt like a limp dishrag. Coming had felt like being run over by a goddamn train, like every cell in his body had been rebuilt from slightly under-inflated balloons. His eyelids prickled and his throat was tight and for about twenty seconds, he swallowed desperately because he was so overwhelmed it felt like he might goddamn _cry_. What the hell even?

“Ooh, I think he liked it,” Tony sing-songed, sounding smug and happy.

“Jesus,” Bucky said. He knew there were more words out there, but somehow blasphemies were all his brain was being able to produce. “What… what the hell _was_ that?” Which was a stupid question, he knew it was, because he damn well knew what a goddamn blowjob was, he did them all the freaking time. There were plenty of men out there who’d liked Bucky’s mouth. Or his ass. He stared at Tony like he was looking at the sun for the first time, and Tony was just looking back, mildly amused, pleased, and proud. Not impatient, not angry that he was still waiting his turn. _What the hell was that?_

“C’mon, cupcake,” Tony said, “you know what a blowjob is. I know I’m pretty good, but I didn’t think I was good enough to blow your brains actually out of your head.” He grinned, making no move to get up.

“You were _amazing_ , sweetheart,” Bucky told him, earnestly, because he could admit that much. What was he going to say, that his regular lover was utterly and completely uninterested in the workings of Bucky’s dick? That seemed unfair to Alex -- even if it was kinda true, in the very most literal sense -- and also asking for sympathy that Bucky didn’t really _want_. There was a standing joke Bucky’d heard a few times, that you could always tell who was the _girl_ in the relationship because nobody cared about his orgasm.

That weird, tight, want-to-cry feeling was back and Bucky shoved it away with both hands.

“Gimme a sec to figure out where I packed m’ motivation to move, an’ I’ll take care of you,” Bucky said, because really, after that, Tony was freaking _owed_.

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere,” Tony said cheerfully. He still seemed ridiculously pleased with himself.

Bucky groaned, shifted. Tony was a heavy weight over his legs, and really, Bucky just wanted to curl up into that warm softness and drowse for a bit. Which struck him as being utterly and completely selfish. Not how Bucky wanted to view himself as a lover, so he let the shock of it goad him into motion.

Tony’s warm willingness aside, Bucky was having a little performance anxiety, pretty sure he wasn’t even going to come close to making Tony feel the same way. A little shy, he finished shifting around, tugging his jeans up to his hips to make moving a little less horrific. “Let me,” he started, cleared his throat. “Let me look at you, baby, I wanna see you, god, you’re pretty.” He tugged Tony’s shirt up until it was rucked up under his arms, swept his gaze down over the length of him, golden and glowing in the halogen parking lot lights.

Tony willingly shifted, pulling his shirt over his head and off entirely so Bucky could look his fill. He still looked slightly amused. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me _pretty_ before,” he said. He let Bucky reverse their positions, until Tony was half-reclined on the bench seat, propped up on one elbow. He brushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair, an idle, fond gesture.

“Blind people,” Bucky said, tossing aside everyone who’d ever looked at this man before and not seen what Bucky was seeing. “Gonna taste you, now.” He started at the corner of Tony’s jaw, that spot right at the hinge. Worked his way down Tony’s neck, licking and nipping at the skin, letting Tony’s slightly ambitious hipster beard tickle at his nose. The base of his throat, that little hollow there, seemed made for Bucky’s mouth, and the way Tony threw his head back wantonly suggested that he agreed.

Tony’s skin tasted like ocean salt, and Bucky couldn’t get enough of it. Tony sighed as Bucky moved, letting out little sounds of happiness and pleasure, and Bucky couldn’t get enough of that, either. Tony arched his back and let out a soft mewl when Bucky’s mouth closed over his nipple, delightfully sensitive. Bucky teased with his tongue until it was a hard pebble and Tony was whining and writhing.

He reached down, stroking with the heel of his hand over the front of Tony’s jeans, feeling the heat and length of him through the fabric. “God, you’re so gorgeous, so beautiful, I… sweetest, prettiest thing I ever seen,” Bucky swore, drifting even lower and licking over Tony’s ribs -- too thin there, but Bucky would help with that, and in the meanwhile, he could count them, nip and taste every single one, until he was nuzzling at Tony’s belly.

Bucky practically ripped the buttons open in his eagerness. He realized he was stropping himself against the seat, hard again and straining at his half-open zipper. Bucky didn’t think he could come again, not this soon, but oh, god, just touching and tasting was enough to get him riled up again. Oh well, Tony had said he would get a rise out of Bucky, hadn’t he? And didn’t he _just_? “Let me jus’ see what you got for me,” Bucky teased, tugging at Tony’s jeans, which slipped easily off his hips.

Tony lifted his hips to help his jeans slide off, making the muscles in his abs flex and slide. Bucky was almost distracted from the reveal of his cock, which would have been a damned shame, because Tony’s cock was just as pretty as the rest of him, flushed and curved and already leaking a little in eagerness. Tony’s hands scrabbled for purchase, one grabbing at the back of the seat and the other reaching back over his head to close on the armrest. “Oh, god, yes, _please_...”

_Jesus, barely even touched him yet,_ Bucky marveled, then got down to it, because if there was one thing Bucky knew how to do, it was this. He let his throat relax, got the right angle, just there, because of the direction that Tony was bent, and took it in. His technique wasn’t the same as what Tony had done, he probably couldn’t have replicated that without some instructions, but no one had ever complained before. A combination of short, flicking licks, and twisting his head to let his whole mouth rotate against Tony’s prick. Once he had Tony nice and wet, Bucky got fingers into the mix, until the whole thing was one long slide into heat and tight and wet at the back of his throat.

“Oh, _god_ ,” Tony moaned, and his hips gave an abortive twitch, like he was stopping himself from thrusting up into Bucky’s mouth. “Oh god, your _mouth_...” His whole body was taut, his hands clenched and his back arched.

Bucky slid his hand under Tony’s ass, reveling in that soft skin, the firm muscle underneath. Beautiful and perfect and just… _hnnngh_. Pushed up a little with his fingers. _It’s okay_ , he thought, _I can take it_. Groaned around his mouthful and when Tony arched up again, rocked with it, let Tony fuck into his throat. Bucky’d long ago killed most of his gag reflex and knew how to breathe with it -- or for that matter, do without breathing much at all for a few minutes, at least.

“Oh my _fuck_ \--” Tony keened, hips stuttering. “Not... gonna last, if you keep that up.”

There was enough saliva in his mouth that Bucky swallowed, convulsively tightening his throat and holding his diaphragm steady. The sounds they were making as Tony thrust in were slick, obscene. Glorious. Tony’s cock was soaking wet. Bucky traced damp fingers down Tony’s ballsack, then rubbed at Tony’s perineum. He wished to Christ he had lube, but Jesus, when even was the last time he’d gotten any on _impulse_? But spit would do, for a little flutter.

He ran his fingertip over Tony’s hole, feeling the muscle there twitch under his skin.

Tony gasped and practically convulsed as he vibrated between pushing back into Bucky’s finger and thrusting up into Bucky’s mouth. “Oh... oh _god_ oh _shit_ , I’m--” He locked up, quivering, his cock pulsing as he spilled. He came in waves, several long ones, before he finally slumped back down to the seat. “Oh, _god_.”

Bucky took one long, last taste, teasing at him while he was overstimulated and sensitive, because Bucky was kinda a bastard that way sometimes, before he let Tony’s softening cock slip out of his mouth. Bucky gasped for air, panting hard as his head spun a little. He always liked that, the warm, gray feeling that came from a little oxygen deprivation, a little face fucking. A hand over his throat sometimes, or an arm around his neck. Choking on Tony’s cock wasn’t quite the same, but it was close, and Bucky sighed in relief, practically collapsing on Tony’s belly.

Tony, still panting, dropped a hand onto Bucky’s head, clumsily petting his hair. “That was fantastic,” he said between heavy breaths. “Sorry I didn’t get the warning out in time. ‘S been a while.”

Bucky blinked. It seemed to take a few minutes to get his brain to connect enough to do words. “In time for what?”

“You know, in case you didn’t want to swallow.” Tony wasn’t looking at him, his head flat back against the seat, arm thrown over his eyes.

“Hey,” Bucky said, gently. “Tony, no, you… don’t apologize. It was --” _Beautiful_ , that was the word for what it had been, the way Tony arched up and quaked at Bucky’s touch. “-- it was great. Don’t be sorry about nothin’.”

“...Okay,” Tony said. He took a couple of breaths, huffing the last one out in a long sigh. “Okay, if you say so, that’s... that’s good. It really was just amazing.”

“It _was_ amazing,” Bucky said, close to reverently. He caught Tony’s hand and pressed a kiss into his palm, which seemed really daring, given that he’d just had Tony’s dick in his mouth. “And I said so, and you said so, we’re both agreeing there that it was _awesome_ sex.”

Tony laughed a little. He took his arm off his eyes and sat up a little, and he was smiling. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Be hard to top that.”

There was still something weird and fluttery going on in Bucky’s gut, a twist of nerves that Bucky didn’t trust and instinctively thought might even be a little bit _dangerous_ , somehow. Like Tony was somehow… more. Than he had been at the beginning of the evening.

_Don’t get infatuated, Barnes. Lock it down. It’s just a thing._

That little flutter wasn’t having any of Bucky’s stern talking-to. It kept right on fluttering, the whole ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets very overwhelmed during the smuts, because for the first time in a LONG time, his partner's paying attention to Bucky's needs. We get a basic (somewhat sneery, sexist view, because Bucky hates himself in his head) viewpoint of his sex life with Pierce, which is very one sided. So when Tony's actually caring about pleasing him, Bucky just about cries about it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly smut again. Once they go inside Bucky's house, it's smut. Post smut, they talk about their FWB relationship a little bit.

Tony woke up with a start, then relaxed as he recognized the little apartment where he was staying. It was funny, how quickly he was getting used to it. He was going to miss it, even, when the work ran out and he had to move on again.

He would miss the people, too, he thought, and though he tried not to let his thoughts linger on Bucky, they did. How could they not?

Last night hadn’t been anything like what he’d expected. He’d sort of expected a few drinks and the back row of a bad movie theater, perfect for making out and groping. He hadn’t expected Bucky to introduce him to _friends_ , as if they were actually dating. As if Tony was a real person, and not just a homeless guy that Bucky had taken pity on and wanted to fuck.

Not that Tony had objected to the fucking. Bucky was hot as hell, and he looked at Tony like Tony’s mere existence was a gift. And he’d been so _delightfully_ responsive to the blowjob Tony had given him. That had almost been more satisfying than having the favor returned, though Tony sure as hell wasn’t about to object to that, either.

Ty had gone down on him occasionally, but not like that. Not even a little bit. Ty had a sensitive gag reflex and hated the taste of come. Bucky had literally throat-fucked him, and then been, to all appearances, genuinely confused by Tony’s apology, like it had never occurred to him _not_ to swallow. Tony didn’t think he’d _ever_ had a blowjob like that.

He wondered if it was a one-time thing, or if Bucky might be amenable to a repeat performance sometime.

 _Don’t get too attached_ , he reminded himself. Whatever happened, it was all going to be over when the cleanup and renovations were done, and Tony had to move on. Whatever this was, it was temporary. All of it was temporary, and Tony was going to be crushed when it ended if he couldn’t keep that in mind.

A brief scramble of dog claws against the wooden door, and then Bucky’s double-rap. “Coffee.”

Bucky had a mug of coffee for Tony every morning. And it was weird, how much that meant -- Bucky was already making coffee for himself; making an extra for Tony was hardly a big deal -- but it made all sorts of weird and warm things happen in the pit of Tony’s stomach.

Tony pushed off the blankets and padded across the floor to unlock and open the door. Lucky jumped up on him as soon as he’d cracked it, and Tony pushed the dog off and then crouched to scratch his ears. “Dumb mutt,” he said affectionately.

Lucky licked at his face, then trotted down the stairs toward the beach. Tony stood up to take his mug from Bucky. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Bucky said. “I… uh, sort of wanted to go over th’ plan, for the day. An’... yeah, that.” He was giving Tony a look, brow furrowed and eyes puzzled, like he wasn’t exactly sure what the proper etiquette was for someone he’d fucked and wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue on that way or not. Not, Tony thought, that it would be difficult to ghost him, in that particular circumstance. Inviting Tony to move along would get him easily and painlessly out of Bucky’s life.

Ug. That was a thought Tony didn’t want to have without coffee in his system. He took a sip and sighed as the heat seared the fuzz from his mouth and signaled his brain to start waking up properly. “Okay,” he said. “Plan. Hit me.”

“ _Hnnng_ ,” Bucky said, mouth dropping open a little. He gave an all over shiver, then, “Sorry, yeah, I’m… _never_ going to look at a cup of coffee the same way again. I blame you. Completely.” He shook his head, bits of his hair falling out of its hairtie and scattering in his face. “Plan. I had one. Right. Building inspector’s coming in today, gonna go over the place an’ see what work needs done. Need to do a count of the freezer an’ pantry. Gonna talk to one of the shelters in the area, see if they need a food restock or somethin’.”

Bucky was still looking at him, watching him the whole time Tony was drinking his coffee.

Tony nodded along. “I can do whatever you need, there. I mean, I’m not a licensed contractor or anything, but you shouldn’t need one for most of your minor repairs.” The coffee was gone. Why was the coffee gone? Tony peered into the depths of his mug, then tipped his head back to catch the last few drops.

“There’s ah… more,” Bucky said, jerking his chin back at his house. He went over to the door and nudged it open.

More coffee was more coffee, so Tony wasn’t too far behind when Bucky stopped and twisted into a squat, grabbing a mug that was sitting next to the door. Based on the number of ants he tapped out of it, it had been there for a while. “Keep forgettin’ to bring this--” He started to stand back up and realized exactly what position he was in, his chin about level with Tony’s hip. His head tipped back and Tony literally watched his eyes darken.

Oh. _Oh_. Tony’s breath caught in his throat, and his dick suddenly took interest in the morning. He licked his lips and forced himself to breathe again. “Inside?” he suggested, voice a little rougher than it had been a minute ago.

“Yeah, I… uh…” Bucky stood up, slow and sinuous, letting himself press up against Tony, rubbing them together. Tony got a brief impression of the place, all wide windows letting in the sunlight and ocean view. Blonde wood paneling, out of style and a bit kitschy, but the driftwood styled furniture and wide, puffy sofa suited it.

Bucky lifted him up, depositing him on a low bar that separated the living room from the dining room. A few knicknacks crashed to the floor and Tony couldn’t even care because Bucky’d pushed his legs open and was in the cradle between Tony’s thighs and he was kissing Tony with soft, whining moans and delicate touches that were utterly at odds with the way he was rubbing against Tony’s groin.

Tony wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, pulling Bucky in more tightly, and tangled his fingers in Bucky’s hair. He hooked one leg over Bucky’s hip and tipped his head back, begging wordlessly for Bucky to take those soft kisses to his throat.

Bucky was groaning into it, mouth exploring down Tony’s neck. He bit down on Tony’s shoulder, right at the meaty part above his collarbone, a stinging, white jag of pain, before soothing it with his tongue. “I want, I _want_ ,” he was saying, babbling, really, against Tony’s skin. He jerked Tony’s jeans open and pushed them down; one leg turned inside out and was dangling around his ankle.

“Yes,” Tony groaned. “Yes, god, please.” He tugged on Bucky’s hair, demanding and receiving another kiss, hot and frantic. Bucky’s hips rolled, and Tony pushed into it, grinding their cocks together. A lightning bolt of pure need shot through him, making him whine and pant. “ _Yes_ ,” he begged.

Bucky shifted his weight, then licked his own palm before wrapping his hand around Tony’s dick, encasing him in a firm, wet grip. “Yeah?” Bucky gave an experimental tug, letting his hand slide up and then twisting his wrist at the end. “Yeah, you show me, baby. Show me what you like, I’ll get you there.”

Tony wrapped his hand around Bucky’s. “Yeah, like this,” he breathed, pulling and pushing at Bucky’s hand, almost like jerking himself, and nothing at all like it. His toes curled with each stroke, his breath catching every time Bucky’s thumb swiped over the head of his cock to smear the precome gathered there. “Ohgod, yes, just like that.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” Bucky told him. He let go for a minute, tugging his own jeans down until they were around his thighs, rutting up against Tony’s leg before getting them lined up. He stropped them together a few times, then grimaced, the dry friction a fierce tease. He licked his hand again, then actually flicked his tongue over the few drops of Tony’s precome on his fingers, before working his tongue around in his mouth like sucking on a hard candy and then spitting into his hand. He offered Tony his palm, like some fucked up kind of kinky spit-brothers thing.

That shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but Tony’s mouth was already salivating from watching Bucky suck on his own fingers. Tony took Bucky’s hand and sucked his thumb in, tongue flicking over the pad of Bucky’s finger where it was most sensitive. Tony sucked hard and then let his teeth scrape lightly up the length of Bucky’s thumb, then looked up at Bucky through his eyelashes before licking wetly across Bucky’s palm.

“Oh, my god, you’re _killin’_ me,” Bucky said, voice a low, throaty growl. He wrapped his hand around them both, stroking them in tandem, rising up on his toes to push and thrust against Tony’s dick. Slick with spit and heated and dripping, Bucky jerked them off together, his hand tight around them, squeezing with some sort of pattern. Just random enough that Tony couldn’t anticipate it, kept trying to track it and move with it, and Bucky just kept winding him up, and up, and he fucked up through Bucky’s fist, seeking release and not getting it, _Jesus_.  

“Oh, god, you’re so-- _Fuck_ , please, ohgod, come on,” Tony whined. He wrapped his legs around Bucky’s hips and squeezed, needing _something_ , just a little more, somewhere, shit, _please_... He grabbed the back of Bucky’s neck and kissed that wicked mouth hard and sloppy, not even caring how desperate and needy it made him look. “Bucky! Please, _god_...”

“Yeah, I got you,” Bucky told him, hand moving with the same, steady, pulsing motion. “I got you, honey, you just let me… that’s so sweet, look at you, honey. Come on, that’s it.” Bucky’s voice was shaking, the whole time, like bringing Tony around to an orgasm was his mission in life and he aimed to do a damn good job of it. “Come for me, let me see it.” Bucky’s dick throbbed against Tony’s, pulsing, and his movements got jerky, more frantic.

Tony groaned and arched up into the touch, his head dropping back as his balls started to squeeze up. “Oh god, oh god ohgod,” he chanted, until all the breath left him and fire flooded his veins and he came, spattering his stomach and Bucky’s in thick streams. “Oh _god_.”

Bucky groaned against Tony’s throat, rubbing himself through the mess Tony had made, slick and slippery and-- “ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed, then it was more wet, more slick and Bucky followed after him, still smearing it over Tony’s belly, practically painting him with it. “Oh, my god, I--” Bucky jerked back, just a little, eyes wide. “Can’t _believe_ I did that,” he finished, a little sheepishly.

Tony laughed, only a little hysterically. “Me either,” he said. “But I’m glad you did.”

Bucky tucked his face against Tony’s throat; the back of his neck was brick red and heat baked off his skin. “Oh, god,” he confessed. “I ain’t never… had anyone up here before, much less on th’ damn _kitchen counter_ , holy shit, Tony. Yeah, okay… well, that happened.” He pulled back and grimaced at the sticky mess between them. “Hold tight, I’ll get a rag.”

Tony watched Bucky putter around, finding a cloth to clean them up, and tried not to read anything into it, that he hadn’t brought anyone back home before. It was temporary, he reminded himself. _Don’t get attached._

He ignored the warm little fond feeling that suggested it might be too late.

“So, um,” Bucky said, taking a wet dishtowel and cleaning Tony up with absent-minded efficiency, “I. You know, we’re way outside my box here. I got no guidelines, or nothin’. I’m used to one night back-alley handies, or, you know. Dated a bit. Cheap hotels. Or. Yeah, like that. So, you gotta tell me, if I’m oversteppin’. What… what is this?”

Tony blinked. “You think I know? I...” He looked away, admiring the view of the ocean through the wide windows. “It’s not like I can stay, once the work runs out,” he pointed out, ignoring the way that squeezed his chest. “I’m kind of at the mercy of the wind. I don’t even have an ID or anything. Once you sell the place, once you don’t have any more work for me, I’m gone.” He shrugged, tried not to think about the future. “But for now, this is pretty damn good.”

“Okay, okay, that’s… that’s good, right? It’s good, this is good.” Bucky gave Tony a narrow look, then said, “An’ I’ll just say it, so we know. You don’t owe me this. Don’t feel like you do. You tell me no, I’mma back off like you were on fire, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Tony said easily. It was almost perplexing that Bucky thought he needed to spell that out, except for how it wasn’t, how the difference in power between them was so vast. “Trust me, I’m here because I want to be,” he added. “You’re smoking hot, you know that, right?”

Bucky made a face. “Gettin’ old,” he said, although he couldn’t be but thirty. “Feel older sometimes. Anyway. _Plan_! I had a plan, before we got distracted. An’ Jesus, please stop with th’ little coffee orgasms, because my plan does not entail you bein’ naked all th’ time.” He nudged Tony off the counter and Cloroxed it, before pouring Tony a second cup of coffee.

Tony eyed Bucky over the rim of his coffee mug. “Your plan does not sound like any fun at all,” he observed. “I make no promises.”

“Plan,” Bucky said, stressing the vowel and almost stretching the word out beyond recognition. “Which also includes Wanda an’ Sam comin’ over to finish the tables, an’ start painting inside. You an’ I are gonna tag along after th’ inspector, an’ make a list of whatever supplies we need to make those repairs. You’re… uh, good with that? Then we’ll make a run into town, get whatever that is. An’ you know, stuff that you need, since you’re stayin’ a while. Shampoo an’ a toothbrush, razor, whatever. But first, I’m gonna feed you. You’re too skinny by half. We good with that plan?”  

“Sounds good to me, boss.” Tony tossed off a mock-salute. “Be good to shave, I have to admit.”

“All right, then,” Bucky said, and he pulled out a bowl and a weird-looking kitchen appliance that turned out to be a crepe-maker, directed Tony toward fillings and berries and nut pastes in his cupboard, and started putting together breakfast.


	7. Chapter 7

As far as Bucky could tell, Tony spoke an _entirely different language_ , and one that Bucky couldn’t get a grip on at all. Not like back when Steve’s girlfriend was half-heartedly teaching him Russian, where the shapes of the words were different and strange, but the meanings behind them were familiar. Tony and the building inspector had disappeared down a rabbit hole of _tensile strength_ and _dead loads_ and _fire partitions_ , where the words sounded like English, but didn’t mean anything.

Bucky’d given up taking notes and was just following along behind them, pretending that he was in charge. Sam gave him a raised eyebrow a few times -- you really goan trust this guy, that look said -- but what the hell. If Tony was faking it, it was a two-sided con-job that involved the inspector, too, and Bucky couldn’t imagine why anyone capable of putting together a con of that magnitude would bother to pull it on Dockside of all places.

“Okay, but we can get away with quarter-inch for the _facing_ , right?” Tony asked, and the inspector hemmed and hawed a little bit over whatever the hell _facing_ was and whether it needed quarter-inch or half-inch something or others. In the end, though, he agreed that quarter-inch was sufficient as long as the load didn’t exceed some number that sounded like it had been pulled out of his ass, and Tony glanced at Bucky behind the inspector’s back to give a grin and a thumbs-up.

Wanda was in the main dining room, carefully taking down all the decor, including stuff from the brag wall, dusting it all off and storing it in what looked like plastic totes from the garden center where her brother worked. She came in behind them a few times to show Bucky this or that broken piece of art, or a photo where the glass was cracked. Or one time to show off his fucking school pictures, which apparently had been shoved into the frame one on top of the other, so Tony could see him in all his youthful glory, from second grade on.

When she got to high school, Bucky squawked in dismay and put his hand over his freshman year pic. He’d put on a ton of weight that year, before he’d started playing on the baseball team, and he looked… _round_.

Tony just pulled Bucky’s hand out of the way and fucking _cooed_ over the picture like Dum Dum or Pinky would’ve done, being a giant asshole about it, and even the inspector cracked up.

“I hate you,” Bucky told Wanda, absently, and then, _fuck_ , her eyes got huge and watery and Bucky had to talk her back down out of the branches like she was a stray kitten. Finally, he got her settled, and back out to finish packing. The whole interior was going to be painted, something he never could have done and stayed open at the same time, so that was something, Bucky supposed.

The inspector finally left, with another round of bullshit in Tony’s direction, and when Tony turned from bidding the guy a good day, weekend, life, with many fat happy babies, or whatever it was, Bucky was studying Tony with a speculative eye.

“Why… why ain’t you doin’ this, Tony?”

Tony froze, eyes wide. “Doing... what?”

Bucky waved a hand at the inspector’s departing truck. “That. Somethin’. You’re obviously not an idiot. S’far as I can tell. You could do his job, or contract carpenter, or… hell, work in a machine shop. What… I know, I know, it’s none of my business, but… what _happened_ to you?” Bucky was pretty sure, even when he lost Dockside, he had places to go. Hell, Pinkie would probably let him couch-surf for at least a year, if he had to. Friends to help him out. But Tony seemed so much smarter, it was unfathomable, how he’d ended up homeless.

Which made Bucky wonder a few things; was it that easy, for the floor to give way underneath and find yourself on the street with nothing, or had Tony… done something? Was Bucky going to wake up one morning with the cops beating down his door to arrest the Parkway Strangler or something?

Tony looked uncomfortable. “Dropped out of college to run away with my boyfriend, and that turned out to be a... bad move.” His shoulder rippled in a shrug. “Could probably get some decent work if I had my ID, but I don’t, and getting it replaced costs money.”

Bucky nodded, slowly. “Okay, that’s… that’s a fixable problem.” Bucky looked over the notebook Tony had in his hand. “You know what all this means, though?”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“All th’ stuff the inspector was saying,” Bucky said. “He lost me somewhere around ‘havin’ a good day’ and I never caught up. You understand this, you can… you can do this?”

Tony nodded. “You’ll have to hire a licensed electrician to fix the wiring thing in the kitchen; that’s got to be certified. But the rest of it, yeah, I can do it.”

“Happens I know one of them, if I can find him,” Bucky said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Otherwise, there’s companies. Tell ya what I’m gonna do. I’ll get two bids on the work, standard as usual. Obviously, I’ll get all the materials, and any tools you need. You do the work, seventy percent of the lowest bid. I’ll help you get your ID back, and whatever paperwork you need. That time an’ effort’ll be the extra thirty percent. Sound like a deal?”

Tony stared at Bucky like he’d grown an extra head. “You... really? That’s... Uh. That’s very generous.”

“That’s a deal, then,” Bucky said. “Take a break, make your purchase list for the repairs. I’m gonna make some calls, then we’ll hit town, okay?”

***

“What…” Wanda stopped dead, almost dropping the stacked boxes of pizza.

Peter swooped in -- he wasn’t lying, the blue-haired guy really did move fast -- and rescued the food before heading over to the table that the group of them had, for whatever reason, designated as _theirs_.

Honestly, the whole restaurant was free, they could have sat anywhere, but they didn’t. They always sat at that particular table, and for the most part, in exactly the same patterns as they had the day before, and the day before that.

“What… happened to your _face_?” Wanda was still staring at Tony, her mouth hanging open, eyes wide. She had a stunned expression, like someone had just body-slammed her through the floor.

Tony rolled his eyes at her. “I _shaved_. Picked up a razor and some other essentials while we were out shopping yesterday. What, don’t you like it?”

“Going for the Seneca Crane look-alike contest?” She reached up, her fingers still warm from carrying the pizza boxes, and stroked his cheek. “Soooooft.”

“Oh, god,” Peter called out. “She does that to me every time she shaves her legs. ‘Peter, touch it, it’s sooo soooooft.’ Jesus. I should buy her a kitten or something.”

“Fluffy blanket,” Tony advised. “It’s easier to take care of.” He grinned and ducked out of the way of Wanda’s half-hearted smack. “And who’s Seneca Crane, aside from, apparently, a guy with great facial hair?”

“What, how did you miss _Hunger Games_ , dude?” Wanda demanded. “Like, they had Gillette commercials for the guy and everything. Seriously, Bucky, Bucky, we should have a movie night, get Tony all caught up on teenagers committing murder for bags of rice. Totally dystopian novel, really gross. I love it.”

“Oh, I heard about that movie. Thought it was for kids.” At least, that was what Ty had said, with great eye-rolling and scoffing, and so they hadn’t gone to see it. “I’m in for a movie night,” he added, with a sly glance at Bucky.

“Oh, and it’s all love triangle-y and stuff, too,” Wanda said. “I’m kinda Team Gale, but she ends up with the other guy and that’s such a _stupid_ ship name, because it’s either Penis or Katpee, so you know…”

“Don’t spoil the movie for him, girl,” Sam said, a six pack of Cokes dangling from one hand. “Seriously, Tony, you gotta make her stop talking or she’ll give you all the major plot points before your second slice, man.”

Tony pointed at Wanda. “No spoilers. But I’m pretty sure I’ve got them all already: teenage murderbots, a love triangle, and some guy with facial hair. What else could a movie need?”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky said. “We’ll start with _Hunger Games_ and watch movies that apparently need to be inflicted on people. Tomorrow night, great, great.”

Bucky passed out plates, nearly tripping over Lucky, who was pacing around the room waiting for people to share their crusts. Then Bucky liberated almost half of one pizza -- tomato, olive, and feta cheese -- and took a seat across from where Tony usually sat so he could spend the dinner hour with his ankle pressed against Tony’s. He hadn’t mentioned their _arrangement/fuckbuddy/whatever the fuck it was_ to anyone else, so Tony hadn’t, either. He didn’t know why Bucky hadn’t said anything, but it wasn’t anyone else’s business anyway.

Besides, it was kind of fun to catch Bucky’s eye and lick his lips suggestively, or to drop a fork halfway across the room and bend over to pick it up, or to wait until Wanda and Sam and Peter were all arguing with each other about something and then slide his foot up Bucky’s leg toward his crotch. It was flattering and fun, to watch Bucky’s eyes go exactly where Tony wanted them, or to make that pretty red blush climb up out of Bucky’s collar. He was pretty sure Bucky enjoyed it, too, because Bucky never asked him to stop.

Sam was right about Wanda’s enthusiasm for movies. She neglected her pizza to grill Tony about his favorite films, nearly knocked Sam's soda over while describing a fight scene in some giant monster movie Tony had only seen a poster for, and complaining about whitewashing in the most recent version of the Lone Ranger.

Tony let her mock him for his lack of film education as he picked at his pizza, biding his time. When Sam left for the bathroom, Tony leaned toward her. “So,” he said, “when are you sealing the deal?”

Wanda's eyes widened and she appeared to be trying to tell him something via telepathy.

Tony tossed half a crust to Lucky, then blinked at her in feigned innocence. “What’s that? Sorry, apparently I don’t know my teen movie references well enough to read that face. I just wanted to know when you were going to say something to Sam!”

She sniffed at him, staring down her nose like she had no idea what he was talking about. “I don’t have to say something to Sam, he’s _seen_ all the movies. Unlike some other uncultured swine in the room.”

“Oh, honey,” Tony said. “Of _course_ you have to say something to him. He’s a _guy_ , he has _no idea_.”

Peter, who’d been poking his phone frantically, playing _Fruit Ninja_ looked up with sudden glee. “Wait, wait, wait. You have a thing for _Sam_? Is that what’s up with the sudden interest in Marvin Gaye? You’re making him a mixed CD?” Peter looked like his birthday and Christmas had come early.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Bucky piped up. “Wanda made _me_ a mixed CD a few-- oh. Oh, god. Oh, Wanda, honey…” There was that blush again, although to give him credit, this time Bucky looked like he was feeling bad for Wanda, rather than embarrassed.

Tony twitched a smile at Bucky, then looked back at Wanda pointedly. “Guys,” he said, “ _never_ have any idea when it’s _them_. You have to hit him with a clue-by-four.”

“My god, you sure know how to pick ‘em,” Peter said. “Bucky is so, _so_ gay. And _Sam_?”

Wanda went from looking mortified to furious in about 0.3 seconds. “And what the hell is wrong with Sam? Stop trying to tell me how to live my life, baby brother.”

“Oh, come on, you’re all of twelve minutes older than I am,” Peter protested.

“Best twelve minutes of my life,” Wanda snapped back. “I was an only child. It was blissful.”

“Okay, break it up, you two,” Tony said. “He’ll be back any minute.”

“No, seriously,” Wanda said, a dangerous glint in her eye. “Is it a racial thing, or that he’s older than I am, or what? Why the hell is Sam a bad choice?”

Peter’s eyes got very wide and then he facepalmed as Sam piped up from the hallway, “You know, Sam’s kinda wonderin’ that, his own self.”

“Awkward,” Bucky singsonged.

Tony winced. He’d meant to tease Wanda; he hadn’t meant to out her to her crush. Damn. On the other hand, if Sam had no interest, he probably would’ve just kept quiet? Maybe? “Sorry,” he squeaked at Wanda, but she didn’t really pay any attention to him, still furiously focused on her brother, despite the bright blush painting her face scarlet.

Peter wasn’t doing lots better, obviously caught out and with his foot so deep in his mouth that he was in danger of choking on it. “Nothing,” he backpedalled furiously. “Nothing. Sam’s great, Sam’s… you know. A war hero, he’s smart, he’s getting his degree in psychology. Sam’s _fantastic_.”

“Also, bigger than you are,” Bucky pointed out.

“Shut it, Bucky,” Wanda said. “So, if it’s not Sam, it must be me? I don’t deserve a good guy? Is that it, Pietro? You think _I’m_ not worthy?”

“That’s bullshit,” Sam said, coming into the room. “Not that I don’t ‘preciate th’ accolades an’ all, but--”

Peter put his head down on the table with a thump, confessing, very quietly to the floor, “I don’t want her to go, okay?”

Tony looked at Wanda, who was staring at her brother with wide eyes. He looked at Sam, who was beginning to ease from angry to mollified. Then he looked at Bucky, who seemed to feel almost as awkward as Tony did. “Uh.”

“Right, good, great, this is… this is sharing hour, I guess,” Bucky said. He shunted a glance at Tony, eyebrow up like he was asking a question. “So, we’re just… all sharing. That was a good share, Peter. Wanda. Sam, do you have something you’d like to add?”

“Man, shut th’ hell up,” Sam muttered at Bucky, glaring.

“That’d be a no, then. Okay, my turn, I guess. I’m, uh, seventy thousand dollars in debt, and I’m sleeping with Tony. Next?”

Tony was glad he hadn’t been eating or drinking anything, because he would’ve absolutely choked on it. As it was he coughed in surprise. Then, because everyone was staring at him now anyway, he shoved his hand through his hair and said, “Not so much with the sleeping, actually.”

“Hey,” Sam said, very gently, one hand going down on Wanda’s shoulder. “We should… uh… talk. Want to go for a walk with me?”

Wanda wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” She got up from the table and tapped Peter’s shoulder. He still hadn’t looked up. “Don’t be an idiot, Pete. I’m not going to _leave_ you. Ever.” And then she followed Sam out of Dockside without looking back.

Tony huffed out a sigh. “Well. That went spectacularly wrong. Maybe something good will come out of it, though.”

Bucky was staring out the window, watching Sam and Wanda walking off toward the shore. “I think they’ll be okay. Peter?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m okay. I… kinda deserved that, really,” Peter said, still talking to the floor. “Really, though, Tony? You’re bangin’ the boss? You got worse taste than my _sister_.”

“Why?” Tony said. “You wish I was banging you instead?” He fluttered his eyelashes at Peter ridiculously.

“I feel like I’m bein’ insulted here,” Bucky grumbled.

Peter managed a wobbly sort of smile and ran his finger under Tony’s chin. “Yeah, you get tired of him, you let me know.”

Bucky choked, then.

“What, you didn’t see that coming?” Peter quipped.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter starts with like 3 paragraphs of in process smut, but if you're not a smut person, just skip like the first 3 paragraphs and pick up again with _Bucky snorted._
> 
> This chapter also contains some weird headspace for Bucky, after seeing Pierce that can be associated with a sexual assault victim's mindset. As you are the best judge of your own mental health, please proceed with caution.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god oh god ohgodohgodoh _god_ \--” Tony pushed Bucky’s hips down into the bed so he couldn’t squirm and took him just a little bit deeper, until Bucky’s cock was nudging against the back of Tony’s throat and Tony’s nose was pressed into the dark curls of Bucky’s pubic hair. “Oh Christ, baby, your _mouth!_ ”

Tony would’ve smiled, but his mouth was busy. He undulated his tongue, and Bucky wailed and came. Tony swallowed as much as he could, not really worrying about the drops that spilled onto Bucky’s sheets. He pulled off, but then proceeded to torment Bucky’s still-sensitive cock with darting licks, until Bucky surged up and rolled them over, pinning Tony’s hands.

“God, you’re _evil,_ ” Bucky accused, but he looked pretty happy about that.

Tony leaned up to catch Bucky’s mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. “You like me that way,” he returned, grinning.

Bucky snorted and let go, dropping down beside Tony with a satisfied sigh.

It was nice, really. This was the first time they’d actually made it to a bed -- they’d had sex on the couch and in the shower and again in the back of Bucky’s truck and once in the garage on the stack of half-inflated kiddie pools and even up against the door of the bedroom, but they hadn’t actually gotten into the bedroom, much less the bed itself. Being able to stretch out next to each other like this, afterward, was just... nice.

Of course, maybe there was such a thing as _too_ nice, because it was getting harder and harder for Tony to remember not to get attached. The sex was amazing, but more than that, Bucky was simply the nicest, kindest guy Tony had ever met. Endlessly generous, genuinely empathetic, charmingly dorky, peppered with just the right amount of asshole to keep him from being too syrupy sweet. It was going to hurt when Tony had to leave, already -- he couldn’t let himself actually start falling for Bucky.

Maybe he’d be able to stay in the area, if they got his ID situation straightened out. It was taking forever -- the DMV wanted a copy of his birth certificate before they’d re-issue the license, but the Department of Records wanted a copy of his driver’s license before they sent him his birth certificate. It was a tangled nightmare, compounded with the fact that Tony didn’t live in New York anymore but had no way to prove his residency in Virginia. But Bucky was pushing ahead with determination.

Another reason to like him, damn it.

Tony sighed, then sat up to reach for his jeans. Bucky caught his hand and tugged him back down. “Stay,” he murmured. “Sleep here.”

Tony hesitated. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nosing his way into Tony’s hair at the base of his neck. “You’re all cuddly an’ stuff. An’ then I can have my wicked way with you in th’ morning without havin’ to put on pants, first. It’s efficient.” That was a little bit of mocking there, since Tony fussing about efficiency in his rebuild of the kitchen floor had been the subject of much debate, recently.

“Oh, well, as long as it’s in the name of _efficiency_ ,” Tony said. He wriggled down into the sheets, settling himself against the curve of Bucky’s body.

It didn’t take Bucky too long to drop off, arm draped around Tony’s hips. He muttered a few times as he settled out, kissed Tony’s shoulder once. There were supposed to be lines, Tony knew, in a friends-with-benefits/fuckbuddy relationship. Lines that were supposed to make sure they stayed friends, and not… whatever it was that Bucky was drifting around toward. Whatever those lines were, Tony wasn’t sure if Bucky realized he’d just taken a giant leap over them by asking Tony to stay. You didn’t… cuddle, naked, in bed, with your _pal_.

Still... Tony’s birthday was tomorrow. He hadn’t told anyone -- he’d just feel guilty if they tried to give him anything, because everyone had already been so generous. But maybe it would be nice just to celebrate the day in his head. To wake up next to someone warm and affectionate. Spend the day in work, and then spend the evening having fun with Bucky -- watch a movie or walk down the beach or something. Then come back here and round out the day with more of this fantastic sex... Yeah, that sounded like a good day.

Tony let himself breathe in the soapy scent of Bucky’s hair, and closed his eyes.

***

It’d been a long time since Bucky had woken up with someone else. Steve, his foster brother, had shared his bed for a few months, when they were kids, right up until Bucky’s dad called them a pair of faggots and separated them. Tony was wrapped around him like some sort of demented octopus, his face lax in sleep and his hair an epic mess.

That stupid fluttery feeling that had been ambushing Bucky on and off over the last few weeks was back with a vengeance.

He wasn’t quite sure what to do, now. Tony was half laying on him, pretty well effectively pinning him to the bed. Seemed rude to wake him, somehow, but they had work to do.

Alex would be in town this week, and Bucky wanted the place to look good when he came by for his visit. It wouldn’t be today -- Alex always had a big, fancy cookout for Memorial Day, at the Spanish villa about a mile and a half down the road. Alex’s parents had bought the place back when Alex was a kid, and every year, as long as Bucky could remember, the Pierces had held a big party to kick off the season. Not that Bucky had ever been invited.

But the next day, Tuesday, Alex would be over to Dockside, usually for lunch, and he and Bucky would get to spend a little time together.

That funny little flutter jerked about that thought, like someone had thrown a rock at a butterfly. Bucky scowled and shifted. He didn’t like… whatever it was that he was feeling. He wasn’t feeling anything, he told himself. He and Tony had… they had… Bucky shrugged a mental shoulder. Well, it wasn’t love. Not like what he felt for Alex, that desperate longing pain.

“Hey,” he said.

“Mmm?” Tony’s eyes squeezed tight, then fluttered open slowly. He froze for an instant, then saw Bucky and smiled. “Mm. Hey.”

“Sleep okay?” Bucky didn’t even know why he was asking, it seemed weirdly intimate. Somehow more intimate than any of the other, extremely personal things that Bucky had done with Tony -- to Tony -- in the last few weeks. Domestic, somehow. But it was too late to withdraw the question.

“Mm-hm.” Tony blinked slowly, obviously still only half-awake. He unwound himself from Bucky’s limbs, slow like molasses, and stretched heroically. “Comfy.”

“God,” Bucky said, soft, staring. “Ever’ time you do that, I just want to lick you all the way from your nose to your toes.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Tony said, waking up a little more. He folded his hands behind his head and smirked at Bucky.

Really, he shouldn’t. They had a lot of last-minute shit to do, and… fuck it. Bucky grinned at him, tugged the blankets back and slithered down Tony’s body. They could work later.

***

When they finished up for the evening, Wanda suggested driving into Virginia Beach to watch the fireworks, since, for a change, they weren’t going to be working until late, serving dinner. Tony was just helping her talk Sam into agreeing when a dark, wine-colored car pulled into the lot.

Bucky, who had the keys in one hand, froze, staring, then, very softly. “Oh.”

A tall man with blond hair got out of the car. He was wearing wire-rimmed glasses, a tight fitting polo shirt in an impossible shade of pink that should not have made him look manly, but did anyway, and khakis. “James!”

Bucky took a few faltering steps away from the door, then a few more. Practically fell down the stairs. “Alex… you’re… I wasn’t expectin’ you ‘til tomorrow.”

“Oh, ug,” Wanda said, in an undertone. “Yay, Senator Pierce is back in town.”

Tony glanced from Bucky and -- Senator Pierce, apparently -- to look at Wanda. She was wearing the kind of expression she usually only dug out for dark-roast Starbucks coffee and mansplaining tourists. “Who’s that?” He kept his voice low, matching hers. Watching Bucky talk to the Senator, something unpleasant turned over in his stomach.

“State senator, rich fuckwad from up to Henrico,” Wanda said. “Big military mover and shaker. I mean, he’s good for the area, but he’s a warmonger. And…” She glanced at Tony, frowning. “Come back inside, you don’t want to see this.” She put her hand on Tony’s arm and tried to turn him away. “I’ll explain everything just--”

She trailed off, because Tony had already seen what she didn’t want him looking at.

Pierce had put a hand on Bucky’s neck, thumb pushing his jaw up. There was nothing tender or sweet in his expression; Pierce looked more like a bird of prey getting ready to snap up a mouse. Then he kissed Bucky. Thoroughly.

Tony had been on the other side of a lot of Bucky’s kisses recently, but they never felt anything like the way this kiss looked. Bucky was usually teasing and playful, or hot and urgent and demanding. Tony wasn’t quite sure how to put his finger on it, but this kiss was… subservient. Like he was yielding to whatever the senator wanted of him.

Pierce’s fingers tightened around Bucky’s neck until, even across the darkening parking lot, Tony could see the whites of his knuckles.

The sickly turning thing in Tony’s stomach flopped over again, unignorable like a hot stone in his belly. “Oh.”

“Bucky’s… his side dish or something. Guy’s married with kids and everything. Respectable, up in Richmond, you know. He’s been slumming it around here with Bucky for about ten years or so,” Wanda told him. “Come on. Let’s just… go.”

Pierce said something, low, in Bucky’s ear. Tony couldn’t hear it, but Bucky nodded, panting for air as Pierce let him go. Without saying goodbye, without even looking back, Bucky got into the fancy car. Pierce glanced up at the porch as if taking the measure of the few people clustered there, and not finding anything worth commenting on. He got in his car, and took Bucky away.

Despite Wanda’s urging, Tony stood there, staring at the spot where the car had been. It wasn’t supposed to have gone this way.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but finally, he dragged in a deep breath that felt like knives in his lungs, and let it out. It wasn’t any of Tony’s business, was it? They weren’t dating, they were just... fucking. Hadn’t made any promises, despite having woken up together that morning. Tony swallowed down the lump in his throat and let it collide with that rock in his stomach, and then he pasted on a smile and turned back to Wanda.

“Okay, well. Can we still go to the fireworks? Who else drives?”

“My truck’ll fit four, since we’re all good friends,” Sam said. “Wanda can sit on your lap, she’s tiny. Hardly weigh anything at all.”

Wanda, who’d been getting bolder (and if she and Sam hadn’t gotten at least to the hands in places they shouldn’t be at the last movie night, Tony would eat his shoes) balled up one tiny fist and punched Sam’s arm without much force behind it. “I’m fully grown and everything,” she protested. “My feet go all the way to the ground!”

He could do this. It wasn’t the birthday Tony had planned, but he was going to have to do without Bucky soon enough anyway. He might as well practice now. At least he had friends at hand.

***

Bucky made a mistake.

He forgot. Tried to kiss Alex before climbing out of the bed with its luxurious, high-thread count sheets and downy soft pillows. Tried to kiss Alex, with the taste of the man still in his mouth.

Alex didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to. He just raised an eyebrow, like Bucky was some sort of dog, too old to still be piddling in the house and doing it anyway.

There was no point in apologizing. Alex didn’t like that, either. _Sorry_ didn’t interest him, only getting it right. Bucky slid out of the bed without saying another word. Sometimes, before he left, Alex would tell Bucky that he was loved, that Alex loved him.

That wasn’t going to happen tonight.

There was a little light coming from the bathroom and Bucky padded his way over to it. Rinsed out his mouth, wiped his face. Winced a little about it; Alex’s towels were always so clean and fluffy and new-seeming that there was something just wrong about using one to clean his thighs and his ass, but he did it anyway. It was at least a mile and a half back to Dockside, and Bucky was going to have to walk.

He threw the despoiled towel into the laundry hamper when it was done. Stared at it for a minute, and then buried it a few layers down.

Not that Alex did his own laundry.

And Renata had already taken the kids and gone down to her mother’s place in Myrtle Beach. They were arguing again. The oldest girl’s ballet lessons or something. It didn’t really matter what, but Alex had talked about it endlessly, in between rants about the latest budget in Richmond, and Alex’s secretary, who was apparently an uppity bitch.

Bucky recovered his clothes and got dressed, carrying his shoes so he could walk quietly. The villa had hardwood floors and Alex was a light sleeper.

_I love you._

Bucky closed the door to the bedroom and then slipped out of the house.

He felt like some sort of reverse thief; like he’d left the house with everyone unaware, but instead of taking anything, he’d left something precious behind.

“Christ, get it together, Barnes,” he said, sitting down on the steps to pull his shoes on. He wasn’t even sure what time it was. After three, at least. His voice sounded terrible, hoarse and rough like-- well, like he’d had dick down it a few times, and been choked while getting fucked. So, yeah. Voice didn’t sound so great.

It was weird, how damn heavy he felt.

Usually spending time with the man he loved, Bucky felt… lighter. Happier. Hornier, definitely.

He didn’t feel any of those things right now.

The high from being with Alex was like a drug. The more Bucky had of it, the more he needed. Usually the depression didn’t hit until Alex was gone, back to Richmond, back to his life. Back to Renata.

He hesitated on the porch, turned and reached for the doorknob.

Maybe he should go talk to Alex. Alex always made him feel good, didn’t he? He wouldn’t want Bucky to be unhappy, would he?

His fingers brushed against the knob. He gripped it, then--

It was probably locked anyway. And Bucky couldn’t knock, wake him up, that… that wouldn’t go over well. Besides, this was Bucky’s problem, not Alex’s.

“Just go home,” Bucky told himself.

Bucky followed his own advice, heading up the road.

He didn’t understand any of this. _Nothing_ felt like it should.

He’d taken other lovers before. Alex had never asked for faithfulness, although Bucky probably would have given it to him, if he’d asked. But he wouldn’t ask that. Alex had his own… well, his wife, and then there were his… boys. Young boys. Younger than Bucky. Seventeen, eighteen year old boys.

Bucky was old, to be one of Alex’s lovers.

“That’s because you’re special, darling,” Alex would tell him.

Bucky had taken other lovers, but he’d never, ever found himself thinking of them when he was with Alex.

Whenever Bucky was with Alex, Alex was everything. He was the _only_ thing. He loved Bucky. Bucky loved Alex. Burned for him. Missed him, all the time, like a missing arm or something.

Bucky had done it all wrong tonight, because he’d… gotten used to Tony. That was all. Of course. Tony was there, all the time, had been for weeks. Of course Bucky had made love the way _Tony_ wanted. That made sense. He’d just… forgotten, that’s all.

That made sense. Yeah, okay.

It’d be fine. Everything would be fine. Bucky would… well, he’d do it better, next time. Make Alex happy, and if Alex was happy, then Bucky could be happy, right?

Except…

Well, they hadn’t talked much about Dockside, really. Bucky had tried to tell him, about the upgrades he’d made, and the repairs, but Alex had just brushed that all aside. “I’m sure you’re doing what’s best,” Alex had said. “And I want you to keep doing it, you know. I’ll buy the place, get you some capital to get back on your feet. But you’ll pull a salary, same as you’re doing now. You’ll just do it for me now. I’ll have to charge you rent, for the house, but that’ll be reasonable. It’ll look weird, on the taxes, if I don’t. But you… you’ll do a good job for me, I know you will.”

Bucky felt like he was going to be sick and he didn’t even know why.

Probably Alex’s wine and fancy food. It didn’t sit well on Bucky’s stomach, that was all.

Everything was going to be fine.

Alex was going to take care of everything.

And it would be fine.


	9. Chapter 9

Tony woke up at the sound of footsteps on the stairs outside. He rolled over to check the ancient alarm clock on the dresser. It was nearly five in the morning.

Tony flopped back onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Part of him wanted to get up, go out there, and make sure Bucky was okay. Part of him was scrupulously reminding himself that it was none of his business. And part of him, he had to admit, was still sulking over having been abandoned. He’d wound up having a good time with Sam and Wanda and Peter, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Bucky for more than a few minutes at a time. Just like now.

He wondered what Bucky got out of being Pierce’s side-piece. Maybe Pierce acted differently when they were alone. Maybe Bucky liked being pushed around.

Tony threw his arm over his face. Damn it, he wasn’t going to go back to sleep if he was already turning the whole mess over in his head. He fought against thinking about it for a while longer, then gave up and shoved off the blankets.

Might as well get an early start on today’s to-do list. The sun would be up in an hour, anyway. He pulled on his jeans and threw a t-shirt over his head as he pushed through the door.

A shadow caught Tony’s eye just as he was about to go down the stairs. Bucky was sitting in one of the deck chairs he kept on the balcony walkway, a cigarette dangling from his mouth and his eyes fixed on the ocean. “Hey,” Tony said. Another shadow moved: Lucky looking up at Tony from where he was lying at Bucky’s feet.

“Hey there,” Bucky said, and his voice sounded _terrible_ , like he’d spent the last few hours being tortured and screaming, rather than… whatever the hell he was doing that Tony didn’t want to think about. “Didn’t mean t’ wake you.”

Tony shrugged. “Always been a light sleeper.” He thought, _Did you get what you wanted?_ but wasn’t quite petty enough to say it aloud. He couldn’t quite stop himself from saying, “You okay?”

There was a long, pregnant pause and Bucky’s face looked bleak in the orange glow of his cigarette. Like he was debating what lie to tell. “I… uh…” he rumbled, then coughed a few times, pressing his hand to his throat. “I ain’t hurt. I’m fine.”

That... didn’t sound like the ringing endorsement of a man who’d spent an evening and a night with his lover. Tony took half a step toward him, then stopped. _It’s not your problem_ , he thought firmly. He swallowed, made himself look away again. “I’m going to get an early start,” he said instead. “Regrouting the tiles in the men’s room today.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky said. “Uh. Alex’ll be here, ‘round lunch, to look the place over. If it’s possible, try’n have ever’thing tidy before that? Don’t…” Bucky leaned over to cough, hard and hacking, then, “don’t want him to try an’ talk the price down any further than he’d got to.”

Bucky’s buyer was his lover? Oh, that was... that was a disaster just waiting to happen. _Not. My. Problem._ Tony pushed a breath out, slow and careful, then nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He swung down the stairs, and tried to clear everything out of his mind but the work.

Eventually, he almost managed it, where Bucky was a quiet buzz at the back of his thoughts, but mostly he was focused on mixing the grout and making sure the tiles stayed clean. Sam came in around eleven to tell him that they needed to make things neat and pretty, and Tony was shocked at the morning’s disappearance.

He finished the row he was working on, then hung the “Out of Order” sign on the door to remind everyone to stay out while it was drying. Then he washed his hands and wandered into the kitchen, where everyone else was gathering for lunch.

“--give it to me,” Wanda was saying, holding her hand out to Bucky imperiously. “You can’t do this right now. Even if _he_ changes his mind, you don’t need it-- Sam, back me up, here!”

Sam poured a cup of coffee out of the industrial-sized maker, added a dollop of milk and a spoon of sugar. “You know she’s right, man,” he said, setting the cup down in front of Bucky.

“Stop gangin’ up on me,” Bucky protested, then dipped his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a silver flask, handing it over to Wanda. “Fine. Fine, okay? I’m not drinking. Jesus. Buncha mother hens, th’ lot of you.”

“What’s going on?” Tony wondered, reaching for a coffee mug. He didn’t quite look at Bucky, but couldn’t help noticing the bruises on Bucky’s throat that hadn’t been visible in the pre-dawn light.

“Bucky’s sulking,” Wanda reported. She unscrewed the cap on the flask and dumped it in the sink. “Because he is an _idiot_ and doesn’t listen to people who talk sense, and he’s--”

“That’s _enough_ ,” Bucky snarled, pushing back from the table. “He’ll be here any minute, and if you can’t be kind, be gone. I _need_ this sale. We all need it. Okay? Can we just… work together for a few minutes here?”

Wanda put on a terrifyingly nightmarish smile. “I’ll be nice,” she promised with glee that promised exactly _nothing_ like nice.

Tony held up his hands as if in surrender. “I’m good, I’ll behave.” He glanced at Wanda’s vicious grin, though, and wondered what she had in mind, and what she’d been planning to say before Bucky cut her off.

“They’re here,” Peter said from the dining room, and that was all the warning anyone got before the front door opened and Alexander Pierce came in.

Tony hadn’t gotten a good look at the man the night before; the light had been too dim. But Pierce was unfairly, almost revoltingly good looking, with wheat blond hair that was perfectly styled to fit a rugged, outdoorsman face. He had eyes that were the blue of some faraway tropical ocean, and a chiseled jaw. He was handsome like the leading man in a Hollywood Oscar-winner, and he smiled like he owned the room and everything in it.

Behind him came a boy -- well, probably only a few years younger than Tony, really, with a round, smooth face, fashionably shaved head, and golden brown skin. The kid was carrying a clipboard and looking up at Pierce like the man had personally hung the moon, and not only that, but done it specifically to please.

“Senator,” Bucky said, formal. His eyes flitted to the kid for a moment and Tony could see the way his jaw tightened before Bucky put on his best smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

_Like you didn’t see enough of him last night._

Tony had seen the expression on Pierce’s face before, and it made his blood run cold. It was the look of a man who expected his every whim to be obeyed, who knew that he owned not only every thing but also every person within his sight. It was the look of a man who didn’t know the meaning of mercy or kindness.

That hot stone in Tony’s stomach rolled, reminding him that it had never entirely gone away.

“Thank you, James, it’s quite nice to see you again, too,” Pierce said. “This is Jasper Sitwell, my assistant. Jazz is quite brilliant, doing a double major at the University of Virginia. I have him on loan for this semester. Political science.” Sitwell puffed up and beamed at the praise. “Jazz, meet James Barnes. What did you do again, James? Oh, right. Community college, two years for business. Here at TCC, right?”

Bucky barely flinched at that, but it was a flinch. Pierce had taken the first strike, drawn first blood. But Bucky smiled, rolled his tongue around in his mouth for a few minutes. “Yeah, that’s right,” Bucky said. “Top grades in my business ethics classes.”

Pierce just chuckled at that. “Well, that might be why this place is in trouble,” he said. “Come on, I’ve seen the dining room before, let’s get a look at the works. Jazz’ll keep track of everything for me, but here, I took the liberty of drawing up a preliminary arrangement.”

Tony’s fingers itched; he’d grown up breathing business deals and he knew more shady-but-mostly-legal tricks than he really cared to. He wanted to look at that arrangement, to rip it apart and make sure Bucky wasn’t being fucked over, as well as fucked literally, especially after that petty bullshit with the boy. But Tony had avoided talking about his past; Bucky had no reason at all to let Tony help with that. And Bucky had been in this business for years. Maybe Bucky could handle it, despite its origins. Tony curled his hands into fists and made himself look away.

“You’ve met some of my staff before,” Bucky was saying. “Wanda and Sam stayed on to help with the redecorating. Peter, Wanda’s brother--”

“I pick things up and I put things down,” Peter supplied, almost cheerfully, flexing his mostly non-existent muscles. He was giving Jasper Sitwell an eyeful of aggression, down to actually baring his teeth at the kid when Pierce wasn’t looking.

“And this is Tony Stark, my contract carpenter,” Bucky said, looking directly at Tony for the first time all morning, his mouth turning up in what might have been an actual smile. “Tony’s been a godsend, really. Engineering, repair work, tiling. Just everything. You name it, Tony can do it.”

Tony smiled back. “I’ve always been pretty good with my hands.” He let the smile stretch a little and looked at Pierce. “Dropped out of school, but I’ve got half of a mechanical engineering degree. It comes in handy from time to time.”

“I can only imagine,” Pierce said, lightly. His gaze lingered on Tony for a long moment, though, as if trying to see through him, or gather information. “Tony Stark, well, that’s… I’m sure you’ve been a lot of help.”

“Yeah, Tony’s just the _best_ ,” Wanda piped up. “We all love him, ‘round here.” She fluttered her eyelashes, doing her carefully cultivated customer pleasing sparkle.

Bucky was breathing, in and out, like he was trying to keep from drowning. “The house isn’t ready for a viewing yet. M’ sister’s coming up next week. A lot of her stuff and my parents’ things still need to be taken care of. So, yeah.”

“Well, you know I have no intentions of running you out of your home, James,” Pierce said, pleasantly. “When we come to an agreement, I’ll make sure you can stay here, just as long as I need you.”

Behind Pierce, Jazz’s eyes narrowed at that, his lips flattening into a thin, dismayed line. “So, you’ve known the Senator for a while now, I take it.”

“Pretty much my whole life,” Bucky agreed. “We’ve been close, since, well, since I was younger than you are, I’d wager.”

“Now, now,” Pierce said. “There’s no need to bicker. You’re both very useful young men, in your very different ways.”

There was a rather loud banging sound as Wanda accidentally backed into the cabinet, slamming a drawer with unnecessary violence. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding the least bit sorry.

“Well, I’ve seen everything I--”

“Excuse me, Senator,” Jazz interrupted, either not noticing or ignoring the way Pierce’s smile went rigid. “I’d still like to do a more thorough examination of the building. You know how rotten the foundation can get, on a place like this.”

“Well, you do that, then, Jazz. James--” Pierce said, his shark’s smile out again. “Since you’re closed down, I made reservations up at the beach. Come, let’s have lunch and discuss this. Jazz, I’ll pick you up on my way back?”

Jazz opened his mouth and shut it a few times, looking like a fish out of water. “Yes… yes sir.”

Tony could almost feel sorry for the kid, except that he’d gotten off lighter than Tony ever had, for similar infractions. Well, so far. Who knew what Pierce would say or do when there were fewer eyes on him? Tony glanced at Bucky’s bruised throat, and suppressed a shudder.

“I’ll show you where to start,” Tony told Jazz, almost helpfully. “I’ve been up under the place a couple of times already, myself.”

“All right,” Bucky agreed. “Lunch. Sure. Sounds good. I’ll… um, have my attorney look over this contract before next week.”

“Don’t forget,” Sam said, and the way he was standing, almost too casual, “you’ve got another potential buyer in to look around, next week.”

Pierce’s eyebrows shot up. “Really now?”

Bucky did not lie particularly well, Tony thought, but he nodded at Sam. “Yeah, thanks, almost slipped my mind. May and Ben Parker were thinking about it, more like a bed and breakfast thing, as their retirement plan. You know Mr. Parker, right? Didn’t their nephew bust your bay window a few years back?” Bucky let Pierce slide an arm around his waist and lead him out of the building, still talking about the Parkers; Tony had met the kid once, Peter, who was an amatuer photographer and had climbed up on Dockside’s roof one time to try to get a better view of a pod of dolphins that had made their way by a week or so ago.

Everyone watched as Pierce drove off with Bucky, and silence reigned for a long moment. Then Tony clapped Jazz on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you the access.” He was doing the kid a favor, really; maybe if Jazz crawled around in the sandy mud under the building, Pierce would feel that punishment sufficient to the crime of daring to disagree.

And it would give Tony something to think about besides Bucky walking off -- again -- with Pierce, and Pierce’s too-familiar shark-toothed smile.

***

Bucky was exhausted. Lunch had run long. Alex didn’t like to rush over his food and drink. And at one of the more expensive places at town. And of course, Bucky was expected to pick up the tab, since this was a business lunch and Alex was a potential buyer, Bucky couldn’t afford to offend him at this point.

Everything had changed, somehow, and Bucky couldn’t even figure out where he’d gone wrong. Alex was angry with him for some reason that Bucky didn’t understand. But Alex had required an awful lot of placating before even starting to be affectionate.

And then Bucky had melted under it, like he always did, and they’d gone back to the Villa before Alex had finally dropped him off at home and collected his boy-flavor of the month, who was utterly, utterly filthy from climbing around under the restaurant.

Bucky didn’t even have the energy to smirk about that, although he usually loved it when one of Alex’s cultivated pretty political boys was forced down to Bucky’s level. He would have thrown himself into his office chair, but his thighs and ass were killing him, so he gingerly settled, and then put his head down. God, he could fucking sleep for a _week_.

Someone tapped on the door, and Tony’s voice said, “Men’s room is done. I’ll start on the ladies’ tomorrow.” It came out neutral, almost cautious, without any of the warmth that Tony’s voice usually had.

That hurt, and Bucky didn’t even want to examine the reasons for it. He managed to drag his head up. “Tony,” he said. “Hey, I--” _What. What the hell are you going to say now? You_ missed _him?_ Except it was true. All through that terrible lunch, while Alex was telling him all his plans for Dockside, and what he was going to do -- fancy bistro, Jesus Christ, that was as far away from what Ma had wanted as a helicopter was from a fish -- Bucky had _missed_ Tony. He’d caught himself, a couple of times, wanting to nudge Tony’s ankle, or exchange one of those sardonic looks with the man. “Tony.” He held out a hand, inviting him in. “Thank you.”

Tony shrugged. “Just doing my job.” He came in, though, and leaned against the side of the desk. “You’re not really going to sell the place to that guy, are you?”

Bucky managed to roll his eyes. “Despite Sam’s bullshit, probably, yes. I mean, I could go through all the shit, get a real estate agent, an’ list it, but… Alex’s just tryin’ to help.”

“Help himself, sure. I don’t think he’s actually trying to help you.”

Bucky swallowed. God, his throat hurt. Dug around in his top desk drawer for a lozenge. “Go on an’ say what you mean,” he said. “Sam an’ Wanda’ll both be in here tomorrow, probably. Used to be Steve’s job t’ lecture me about it, til…” Fuck. His eyes were burning and Bucky pressed both hands to his cheeks. “Yeah. That.”

“I mean what I said,” Tony said. “Whatever he’s doing, it’s for his own gain. I’ve seen his sort before, I know what they’re like. At least list the place, see if you can get a better deal.”

“Yeah?” Bucky said. There was a sneer in Tony’s tone, and he was saying things that Bucky was already thinking, but… that Bucky wasn’t thinking. Everything was fine, goddamnit. “Yeah, you think you know what Alex is like? Why don’t you tell me, then? Tell me what Alex is like. Go on.”


	10. Chapter 10

Tony was quiet for a moment, his arms folded across his chest. “I think he has a new assistant every couple of months or so because he likes breaking them in more than he likes having an efficient assistant. I think he expects everyone to jump when he snaps his fingers. I think he can’t stand not to be the most important person in the room. I’d be willing to bet he’s a ruthless businessman, even when he’s dealing with people he’s close to. I bet he uses the phrase “Nothing personal” a lot. I think -- I _know_ he’s cruel when he’s been thwarted, and I’m willing to bet that’s just as true in his personal life as it is in politics and business.” He looked over at Bucky, then lifted his chin, just a little. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Bucky opened his mouth. Closed it again. “He's particular, sometimes. High standards. He deserves it. Alex… he's a brilliant man. Defense attorney for the state barely out of law school. He's a great man.”

“He’s rich and smart. That doesn’t make him great. I--” _I’ve known plenty of rich and smart guys_ , Tony wanted to say, but then Bucky would think Tony was blowing smoke out of his ass. Tony was practically homeless; how the hell would _he_ know about rich assholes? He wanted to yell, to throw something. “I’m telling you,” he said instead. “I’ve known too many men like that. He doesn’t care about you, not really. He cares about controlling you. About owning you. Don’t... Don’t do that to yourself.”

Bucky threw himself out of his chair, fists coming down on the surface with a bang. “Alex loves me! Alex has always been there for me!”

Tony flinched back involuntarily, and turned on his heel, ready to run. But he couldn’t let another monster like Pierce -- like Ty, like _Howard_ \-- ruin yet another life. “He doesn’t care about you,” Tony said again, hard. “Try telling him _no_ sometime, and see how much he loves you then. _I_ care more than he does.”

“I… I love him. My whole life, it's been him. I'm th’ only one he ever comes back to. That means something to him.”

Jesus, the guy was _just_ like Ty, wasn’t he? Tony shook his head, as much to clear it of thoughts of Ty as to deny Bucky’s words. “No,” he said. “I spent seven years letting a bastard like that try to turn me into his _pet_ , teaching me to heel on command. I can’t stand here and watch it happen to someone I--” Tony snapped his teeth shut on whatever had been about to come out. He was shaking, he could barely keep his feet. He fumbled for the doorknob, not able to completely turn his back on Bucky, and stumbled out.

“Tony! Tony, wait,” Bucky said. He reached out and then his hand dropped helplessly to his side. For a long moment, it seemed like Bucky might chase him down and that run-rabbit feeling itched between Tony’s shoulder blades. As well as the question: did Tony want to be caught?

But when Tony made it to the water and had to stop to breathe, Bucky was on the porch, making no move to pursue him any further.

Tony looked at Bucky for a long moment, and wondered if this was the end. Would he come back to find his things packed and ready for him, a silent notice? The thought hurt even more than Tony had expected, and for a moment, he wanted to go back. To apologize and beg forgiveness.

But that was what he’d done for Ty, and he was _done_ with compromising his own feelings to save others. He was done behaving the way other people wanted him to behave, just because they wanted it.

Tony turned around again and walked more slowly along the water’s edge. Maybe he was wrong, and Pierce really did care about Bucky. And maybe the salt water on his face was wind-blown sea spray.

***

Chasing someone who was scared and angry was a sure-fire way to make sure they stayed both ways, so Bucky got to the porch and brought himself up short. Much as he wanted to grab Tony’s shoulders, to shake him until he got some answers, until he made Tony understand, until-- God, what he really wanted to do was pet Tony’s hair and hold him until that horrified, _empty_ look on his face went away.

Fuck. Bucky’d seen that expression a few times before, that utter and complete betrayal of everything, and he was damn tired of it being directed at him.

_And where did that all come from, huh? Alex. Alex cost you Steve, you know he did._

Shut up, Bucky snarled at himself. Steve was a big boy, he made his own choices.

Fuck. Well. Bucky heaved a breath. Tony would either be back or he wouldn’t. Probably he’d be back. He didn’t have so many things that he could afford to leave any of it behind.

There was something he needed to do, run into town for a few minutes, and hope that he was fast enough to get it done before Tony came home. _I can’t stay here and watch it happen…_ that’s what Tony said. Tony was leaving.

“That’s a fact,” Bucky told the air. He grabbed his keys. All Bucky could do now was try to make it as easy as possible, make Tony as safe as possible, as he moved on to whatever was next.

He jotted a quick note on a post-it and stuck it to Tony’s door, just… just in case. Maybe.

_Wait for me. -B_

The note was untouched when Bucky got back, so he pushed into the apartment and turned on the lights. He didn’t want to scare Tony by sitting in the dark to wait for him. He almost packed up Tony’s things, just to give himself something to _do_ while he waited. Bucky sucked at waiting.

Finally, he flopped down on the sofa. Tony’d been gone for _hours_.

It was another hour or more before he heard steps on the stairs. They slowed before they reached the top, and Bucky held his breath -- would Tony leave again rather than face him? Was he _that_ afraid, _that_ angry?

But then Tony finished climbing the stairs, stepping on the squeaky board as he came to the apartment. The door opened, and Tony stood at the threshold, taking in the room, looking from his backpack slung in the corner to the tools on the dresser before finally coming inside and closing the door behind him. He looked tired. Beyond tired.

“Let’s have it,” he said, and it sounded resigned rather than upset or angry.

Bucky licked his lips, trying to gather his thoughts. He’d been so worried that he wouldn’t get the chance to talk to Tony that he hadn’t done any rehearsing for what he even wanted to say. Genius, Barnes, really. One of these days, he was going to act on a problem, instead of _reacting_ to everything. “I’m… uh. I’m sorry.”

Tony looked at him, finally, eyebrows raised. “That... is not what I expected you to say,” he admitted.

“I shouldn’t have shouted at you,” Bucky said. Turned the letter over in his hand a few times. “None of this is your fault. All you’ve been doin’ since you got here is make things better for me. You didn’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Tony agreed. “I won’t apologize for walking away. I needed some space. Probably should have said so, though. I’m still learning how to do this.”

“I jus’,” Bucky said, spindling the paper over his fingers until he got to the hard plastic square inside and unwrapped it again. “Um. Do you vote? I mean, did you? Back where you used to live?” He knew it was a non-sequitur, he just didn’t know how to dig into where he wanted to go, so… he’d give Tony his gift, maybe they could get back on some sort of level setting, before Bucky pushed off in the direction of what the hell was going on in Tony’s head.

Tony blinked, confused, and dropped down to sit on the side of the bed. “Sometimes, yeah. If I wasn’t arguing with... I don’t-- Why?”

“In th’ last four years?” Bucky opened the envelope and took out the paper. The card was stuck there with a little dab of rubber cement. “If you have, then your voter registration is still valid. And… well, here.” He handed over the card, a picture of a book on the front, with the shape of the city outlined in red on top of the book.

Tony looked at it, frowning. “This is a library card.”

“Yes,” Bucky said. “But you know what else it is? _Proof of residency_. It’s a valid form of identification, to transfer your voter registration.” It was a bribe, and Bucky fucking knew it. Getting his voter card would take a week, maybe longer. And then he’d have two forms of ID and could get his birth certificate. Which meant, maybe in a month, he’d have enough paperwork to get a driver’s license. _Stay. Please stay._

Tony’s eyes ticked from side to side as he put the pieces together for himself, and then he drew a sharp breath. “Oh.” He glanced up at Bucky, then looked back down at the card, blinking hard, his thumb rubbing lightly over the ID number printed on it. “Thank you. I don’t... I kind of thought you were going to kick me out.”

Bucky sucked in a breath. “Jesus, what kinda assholes have you been dealing with? No, Tony, honey, I…” _Need you to stay._ Jesus christ, what? Bucky would really, sometimes, have appreciated the ability to take his own stupid head off and give his brains a stir, because honestly, nothing in there made sense.

“Mostly, the kind of assholes who get offended when I disagree with them,” Tony said, taking Bucky’s rhetorical question literally. “And then they might let me back into their good graces after I’ve groveled enough. Prove I’ve suffered. And then _I’m_ expected to apologize.” His hands shook, and he clenched his hands into fists. “I’m not doing that anymore.”

“Wow,” Bucky said, breathless with sudden horror. “You’re homeless because you wouldn’t _apologize_?” That was just about the most awful thing he’d ever heard, right up there with Kurt being threatened with gay conversion camps and the girl in his high school who’d ended up on the curb at sixteen when she was pregnant.

“No,” Tony said, still looking down at his hands. “I’m homeless because I refused to stay with someone who hit me. It wasn’t until after I’d left that I realized the rest of it was pretty fucked up, too.”

“Oh, my god, _Tony_.” There wasn’t any air left in his chest at all, and the only thing he wanted to do was put his arms around Tony and protect him from the world. He wasn’t sure Tony would accept that, not from him, but… “That’s awful, that’s gotta be terrifying. I… I wish I could do more to help.”

Tony drew in a shaking breath. “You helped a lot, Bucky. You gave me food, and work, and a place to stay... and _this?_ ” He waved the library card. “This is so far above and beyond... You’ve been so good to me. I don’t... I don’t even have the words to thank you for everything you’ve done to help me.”

That damn flutter was back, and Bucky grabbed for the first thing to say, just to distract himself. “You have to stay now, you know.” He kept it light, teasing. “I tol’ May Parker you were on th’ lease, so she’d get right on gettin’ you a library card. We should probably go poke ‘round, see if there’s anything you want to check out, so she knows I wasn’t lyin’.”

Tony coughed out something in the vicinity of a laugh. “I like libraries,” he said. “Pretty sure I’ll be happy to max out all these shiny new checkout privileges.” He rubbed his arm over his face, and finally looked up again. “Not going to change my mind about Pierce. He makes you happy, fine, his motives don’t matter. But don’t... don’t think you have no other choices. Please.”

That stupid _flutter_. Seriously, if Bucky could rip his chest open and squash it, he just might. That damn thing made everything so confusing. “Yeah, maybe… I’ll talk to an agent. Put the listing up, or somethin’. Might drive the price up, a bit, if Alex thinks there’s any real competition. Look, I know, Alex… I mean. The thing is, Tony… it’s always been this way, with us. I mean.” Bucky shoved his hand through his hair. Alex always, always had excuses why they couldn’t be together. “He’s got his reputation to think of, an’... this state is just not ready for… Alex got married when… I was nineteen when he got married. Renata’s only like a year older than I am. He had to, you know. It… he can’t be gay and have the job and the life that he wants.”

“Yeah, it sucks, being a gay politician,” Tony agreed. “He’s not the first one with a family beard. But I gotta say, if he cared about _you_ , I’d think he wouldn’t be playing games like dragging Jazz along for an inspection and making sure you both knew exactly what was going on. Kind of reminds me of the games Ty used to play, telling me he wanted my opinion but then getting mad when my opinion wasn’t the same as his, watching me dance to get back into his favor.”

“Alex… never promised me… any sort of exclusiveness. He knows we can’t be like that,” Bucky said, trying to explain. “He… back when it was just Renata, he lied to me for a while about it. It was a political marriage, she was cold, she didn’t want… they didn’t…” Bucky heaved a sigh, remembering how betrayed he’d felt, and how bitter and angry he’d been. “She got pregnant. I read about it in the goddamn papers. I yelled at him about it, he’d told me they weren’t, I believed him, I trusted him. I told him not to lie to me anymore. Just… could he not lie. That’s…” And then the boys had started showing up. And they were always so damn _young_ , like Bucky had been, starry eyed and desperately in love.

_Fuck._

Tony shrugged. “Like I said, if you’re happy with the way he treats you, then it doesn’t matter, I guess. I just can’t help but see... other people in him. In the way he operates. The way he wants what _he_ wants more than he wants you to be happy. There’s no compromise, not on his end.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say; every excuse he made for Alex, every time he tried to justify the things Alex had done, or said, the way everything came down to making Alex sound selfish and petty and… small, somehow. And it still came back to… _but I love him_.

_That’s not love, Buck, it’s just sex. Alexander Pierce doesn’t know the first damn thing about love._

Shut up, Steve, nobody asked you.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands at the back of his neck, hard enough to hurt. “I loved him my whole life,” he said, knowing he sounded small, pathetic really. Why was he asking for Tony to understand, anyway? “I don’t… I don’t know how to let him go.”

Tony cocked his head to the side. “Do you want to?” It was... not entirely calm, but honest, as if Tony genuinely wanted to know the answer.

What the _hell_ was he even thinking about? Panic ran around in his brain like a mouse with cheese, scurrying. Alex was safe, he was… predictable. There was never anything surprising, being with Alex. Never anything spontaneous.

Or fun.

Or relaxed.

Or…

“ _Fuck_ , I don’t… Jesus, I’m a mess, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be doing this to you,” Bucky said, then, before he could stop himself, it just burst out of him-- “I thought about you.” He clapped his hand over his mouth, feeling his eyes stretch wide as that little panic mouse turned into an elephant.

Tony’s eyes locked with his for an endless moment, and then Bucky could practically see him pushing the entire issue aside. Tony’s mouth stretched into a sly smirk and his shoulders squared. “Well,” he said easily, “I mean, who wouldn’t?” He gestured at himself, making a joke of it, giving Bucky an out.

“You… god, you make me crazy,” Bucky said, dropping his face into his hands. “I don’t even know what I’m s’posed to do. Or think, or nothin’.”

Tony got up, came to crouch in front of him, hands resting lightly on Bucky’s knees. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’ll figure it out when you need to.”

Wildly, briefly, Bucky wondered if Tony would let Bucky kiss him, or if he’d ruined that, too, while he was messing up his whole life all over the place. Probably shouldn’t, even though all he really wanted to do was take Tony to bed and fucking forget the last twenty-four hours had ever happened. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll, uh… get out of your house now. It’s been a long day, an’ I ain’t slept at all. I’ll… yeah, okay. See you tomorrow, okay?”

“Or,” Tony said, “you could stay. Just, you know. To sleep. I liked that. It was nice.”

“I… yeah, if you’re sure,” Bucky said, and squinted at Tony, trying to see if Tony looked uncomfortable. There wasn’t anything hesitating in his gaze. “Jus’ sleep,” he said, as much to reassure himself as Tony. “I, uh… wouldn’t be any good to you right now, anyway. ‘Bout to die of exhaustion, I swear.”

Bucky kicked his shoes off and peeled down to his boxers, groaning a little as his muscles ached and protested. Sometimes it seemed desperately unfair to have what felt like a goddamn hangover without getting the actual boozing in.

He’d actually forgotten about his bruises; what the hell was the matter with him, anyway. He was usually so careful to keep those hidden until they faded. Bad enough Bucky had all the morals of a feral cat to be sleepin’ with a married man, but on top of that, he was sick in the head. Perverse. Bucky’d heard it before, and he waited, resigned, to hear it again when Tony’s eyes stuttered down to the ring of purple that Alex left around his neck, and back up.

But Tony didn’t say anything about it. He searched Bucky’s face, then just stripped off his shirt and climbed into the bed, gesturing for Bucky to join him. “Come on. I’m tired, too.”

Bucky crawled in after him and didn’t let himself think about why curling up at Tony’s back and tucking his nose into Tony’s hair felt like _home_.


	11. Chapter 11

Tony woke up slowly, floating in drowsy warmth. _Bucky_ , he recalled, and woke enough to feel Bucky’s arms around him, holding him close. It made his chest ache with how _good_ it felt. And how fragile it was.

Pierce was ripping Bucky apart from the inside out. Tony wondered how he could make Bucky understand that, but suspected it was something Bucky would have to realize for himself. Tony hadn’t realized just how controlling Ty had become until he was already gone, after all. All he could do was try to be supportive. Not of the relationship with Pierce, of course, but with Dockside and-- Oh, Tony could try to get a look at the agreement Pierce had given Bucky, and try to point out any slippery slopes Pierce might have hidden in it.

Tony turned over carefully, not wanting to disturb Bucky’s sleep. Christ, he was falling, wasn’t he? And there wasn’t anything he could do about it, not now. Of _course_ it was just his luck that he’d fall for a man who was in love with someone else -- and not just _anyone_ else, but a married man. What a fucking soap opera.

Bucky’s arms tightened a little around Tony, tugging him closer. There was a soft nuzzle at the back of his neck. He’d noticed that the last time, too, that Bucky seemed to like drifting off with his nose in Tony’s hair. “‘Larm?” Bucky murmured, sleep-soft and muzzy.

“Turned it off,” Tony said into Bucky’s arm. “Need to get up?”

“Don wanna,” Bucky replied. “Warm.” He shifted again, pushing one leg between Tony’s, tangling them together thoroughly.

Tony hummed, snuggling back into the cradle of Bucky’s body. They could rest for a little longer.

It was nice, just laying there, nothing particular to do and nowhere to go, just holding on because they wanted to. Bucky nuzzled at him a few more times and his lips brushed over Tony’s ear at least once, which was nice, right up until he snored directly in Tony’s ear.

It jolted Tony out of his half-drowse, and his jump made Bucky wake up again, too. “Wha’?”

“You snore,” Tony complained, shoving half-heartedly at Bucky’s chest.

“Mmm? Do I?” Bucky yawned, then stretched heroically. “Sorry. Probably should let th’ dog out, an’ pretend t’ be a civilized human at some point. What’s today? Oh, Wednesday, right. Great. Congratulations, you get t’ meet my sister today. Yay.”

“You sound so very excited,” Tony said, amused.

“Bex is kinda a bitch,” Bucky said, scratching at his scalp and making his already impressive morning hair take on a caveman aesthetic. “She’s like. Twelve years older’n I am an’ always kinda thought of me as Ma’s biggest mistake. I’m an oops baby, you know. Fifty-year old woman goes through menopause early and then… oh, hell, I’m pregnant.”

“I’m an only child,” Tony said. “Sometimes I wanted a sibling.” Someone to take the heat off him, sometimes. And sometimes he hadn’t wanted anyone else to suffer Howard’s wrath. It was a bit of a toss-up. “Hey, uh. This is going to be a little... weird, but can I... look at the agreement Pierce gave you? My dad was... Let’s say I know a little about business. It would make me feel better if I knew he really was giving you a fair deal.” That was probably a low blow, playing on Bucky’s guilt, but Tony couldn’t regret it too much.

“God,” Bucky said, scrubbing down his face, and then lightly brushed his fingers over that bruise, livid as a rotten peach, before… “Yeah, sure, go ahead. I peeked at it, didn’t seem… I mean, he’s lowballing the price some, but you know, that’s business. It’s nothing per--” Bucky broke off with a startled cough, and then. “Yeah, actually. Why don’t you do that? Good. That’s good.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, and meant it.

Two hours later, Tony was less grateful and more furious. He scrubbed his hand through his hair as he stared at Pierce’s “reasonable” agreement. “Oh my _god_.”

Bucky, who’d been composing a list of assets that would be included in the sale, to make his pitch to a real estate agent, looked up from his computer. “Hm?”

“He’s going to charge you rent,” Tony groaned, “and he’s not stating the amount, here, just calling it _reasonable_. Which means pretty much the median of the property value. How much is rent on a beachfront house the size of yours in this town? Three, four thousand a month?”

“I don’t even know,” Bucky said, pushing his hair out of his face. “Like, most people own their homes, here. No hotels, an’ only like two sets of apartments. I mean, the apartments are stupid expensive, waterfront property an’ all that. S’why Steve an’ Nat lived up to Virginia Beach, when they worked here. There ain’t housing around here that’s not waterfront, even if some of it’s only waterfront when it rains real hard. But he’s raisin’ my salary, to compensate.”

Tony shook his head. “Not nearly enough. It _might_ cover the flat rent--” Though Tony would eat his t-shirt if it was that much. “--but it won’t cover any repairs you need to make to the house, or the insurance, both of which are now expenses that are separate from the upkeep and insurance for the restaurant.”

“That… doesn’t make sense,” Bucky said, his forehead furrowing up. “I mean, I… gotta eat ‘n stuff. What’s… what’s the contract period, for th’ lease? Clint sometimes lets out the garage apartment, but we run that on a thirty day cycle.”

Tony flipped back through the agreement. “Two years. Sixty days notice required if you’re not going to re-up at the end. And sublets have to be approved by the owner -- that’s him, not you.”

“Jesus,” Bucky said, chewing on his lip. “That… that can’t be right. I couldn’t afford that, why-- why _do_ that? It doesn’t make sense.”

Tony sighed. “It makes sense if he wants to squeeze every last dime out of the place that he can. It also makes sense if he wants to keep you beholden to him, for, say, ‘discounting’ the rent for a month or two when you get behind. I don’t know him well enough to know what his angle is. I can just see that there _is_ one.” It was exactly the sort of underhanded bullshit that Howard would have pulled.

“ _Gas money_ ,” Bucky said, slow. He rubbed his fingers against his thumb. “Jesus Christ, I ain’t… Alex used to give me money, to drive up an’ see him, back when… I was skippin’ jobs, a lot. Cut work to go visit him, whenever he’d call. Ma used to get so pissed with me. Musta gotten fired like… eight times one year. And Alex would give me _gas money_.”

Tony winced. “Yeah. Ty and I both worked, but he made more than me, and it was one of his favorite arguments, why he should get his way. ‘Look at all this nice stuff we have because I work so hard, I don’t think I’m asking all that much, here.’ And he liked to talk about getting a good promotion so I wouldn’t _have_ to work. It would’ve given him even more leverage.”

“Christ, I thought bein’ a kept man was s’posed to come with a little luxury, not…” Bucky made a disgusted noise. “I ain’t his whore.”

“I know that,” Tony said. “You did say you’d give him your comments at the end of the week. Push back on this. After all, it’s just business, nothing personal.”

“I didn’t even _notice_ ,” Bucky said, his voice a little hollow. “I… thank you. Good… good catch.”

“I can’t even promise that’s everything,” Tony pointed out. “I’m no lawyer, and I have no idea how binding any of this is. You told him you’d have your attorney look at it. Was that just talk?”

“I mean, I don’t have one on retainer or nothin’,” Bucky said. “But… I know a girl, we um… went to school together. High school, I mean. She’s smart as a whip, Jenn is. She was just startin’ out when Dad died, and I had to get some stuff done, he didn’t have a will or nothin’ and Bex and I had t’ make some legal agreements. Went to her, she drew up most of the stuff. Of course, the partner in her firm took most of the credit and the money, but she’s a junior partner now. You’d like her, she’s sassy.”

Tony smiled a little; he _did_ like sassy. “Couldn’t hurt to give her a call and see if she can squeeze you in sometime this week, before you have to decide on this.”

Bucky wrote _Call Jenn_ on a sticky note and plastered it on his computer monitor. “Okay. Reminder set--”

“Jimmy? Hey, you--” a woman’s voice came from the dining room, followed by a higher pitched giggle and the sound of someone running over the board floor.

“Aaaand that would be the arrival of hurricane Rebecca Jeanne. Come on, give me strength to get through this,” Bucky said. He leaned over like he was going to steal a kiss, got within three inches of Tony’s mouth and then pulled back. “Sorry. I… yeah. Sorry.” He practically bolted from his office.

Tony watched Bucky go, bemused. Had that been for _Tony’s_ comfort, that drawing back? That... That was different. And surprisingly sweet. Lots of people had offered Tony sex. Not very many had ever offered the opposite.

Fuck, he was falling faster every damn minute, it seemed. He needed to enjoy this while it lasted.

Tony left the papers on the desk and followed Bucky out into the dining room.

***

There was a kid.

In his dining room.

Perfectly normal kid, really. About four or five. Bucky saw lots of kids in his day to day business, or he had until everything went to shit.

Except this kid had thick, black hair and green eyes and Bucky’s Ma’s angular cheekbones. And was holding onto his sister's hand.

“Dat him, momma?” the kid asked. She started tugging at Becca’s hand urgently, pointing with the other.

“Yeah, peanut, that's him," Becca said.

Bucky stared.

“Unca Dzimmy!” the child cried. “I wanned  to meet you for forever!” and threw herself… at Tony.

Tony caught her -- barely -- and threw a slightly panicked look at Bucky. “I’m not, uh, I’m not your uncle, kiddo,” he said, and pointed at Bucky. “He is. But it’s, um, nice to meet you?”

The kid looked around -- Bucky was still in some state of shock -- and then buried her face against Tony’s chest. “Name!” she demanded, balling her fist up in Tony’s shirt, stretching the collar out.

“Becca. There’s a kid,” Bucky pointed out, as if Becca hadn’t noticed that little fact or something.

“Naaaaaaame!” the kid demanded, more urgently.

“Tony!” Tony finally said, if only in self-defense. “I’m Tony. Who are you?”

Becca didn’t even look embarrassed, like not telling her family that she’d had a kid for four freaking years wasn’t a big deal or anything. “This is Isabelle,” she said, indicating the girl with one hand. “Billie, this is your Uncle Jimmy. That is… Uncle Jimmy’s friend.”

“His name is Tony!” Billie told her mother self-importantly. She still hadn’t let go of Tony’s shirt.

“Whose kid is this?” Bucky hissed at his sister.

“Mine,” Becca said.

Bucky about snapped off something vulgar and rated R, before glancing at the child again. “I figured that part out. Where’s the _dad_?”

“I don’t need a dad!” Billie interrupted indignantly. “I’m perfect just the way I am!”

“That’s right, peanut,” Becca said. “You’re my special little girl, and we don’t need _any_ daddies. They’re just more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Becca!” Bucky waved both arms around in a flurry of exasperation. “This isn’t exactly like forgetting to tell someone you bought a canary! Didn’t you think anyone would, you know, want to know that you had a kid?”

Tony glanced from Bucky to Becca, and then carefully pried Billie’s hand off his shirt and folded it in his own hand. “Come on, let’s go get some snacks. You can help me make coffee.”

“I’m not ‘llowed t’have coffee,” Billie informed him.

“That’s okay, you’re not going to drink it, just hold the can for me,” Tony said, and then the traitor disappeared into the kitchen with Bucky’s -- dear _god_ \-- niece.

“Don’t you even _Rebecca Jeanne_ me,” Becca said, taking a deep breath. He hadn’t said it, but she was right in that he was damn sure well _thinking_ it. “You ain’t Ma, and you sure as hell ain’t Big Jim. I had a kid. She wasn’t expected, but I’m happy with my life. She’s a good kid, and I love her to pieces. So don’t you scold me like you think you get some say in it.”

“Do I know him?” Bucky asked, because he couldn’t stop himself.

The way Becca avoided his eyes--

“Oh, my _god_ , Bex. I know the guy?”

“Mommy!” The batwings blasted open and swung violently on their hinges as Billie burst back into the dining room. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!” She flung herself at Becca. “Mister Tony says we can have some _tsips_!”

Tony followed behind with a mixing bowl that had been repurposed into a chips container. “Sorry, there isn’t a ton of food in the kitchen right now, but these were left over from dinner last night.”

“Well, that’s very nice of Mister Tony, isn’t it? Go an’ give your Uncle a hug, I’m sure he’s missing out on Billie hugs, they’re very nice,” Becca said. It was like… she’d been possessed by a pod-person or something. Where the hell was his angry, bitter, smart-assed sister who hated everything in general and him in specific?

“‘Kay!” Billie ran from Becca over to Bucky. “Hi Unca Dzimmy!” She flung herself at him with the same energy and enthusiasm she’d shown for Tony and the chips.

“Bucky,” Bucky told her, seriously. “Your mommy gets really confused sometimes, and she thinks my name is Jimmy, but it isn’t. It’s _Bucky_. You should call me that, instead, okay?” She nodded her head several times, hair flying everywhere, and then practically tackled him. How the hell was a four-year-old kid so damn heavy? He staggered a step backward before catching his balance.

Tony set the bowl of chips on the table nearest Becca, then grinned at Bucky and disappeared back into the kitchen, where the smell of coffee was beginning to emerge.

“Look,” Becca said. “It happened, okay. I was still mad at Big Jim, about -- well, you remember. And I kept thinking, when I was pregnant, this is what _he_ would have wanted. This is… and I just couldn’t do it, okay? I couldn’t call, I couldn’t… give him that satisfaction.”

“And now he’ll never have it,” Bucky said, a little sad, because his father had always, always wanted grandkids. Had berated Bucky for it several times, that he wouldn’t be passing on the family name, that… fuck. No wonder she hadn’t called, because Becca had gotten even more of that shit than he had. _When are you gonna find a nice boy and settle down?_

“Yeah, and I ain’t sorry about that, neither. She has me and I have her and that’s all we _need_ to have,” Becca said. “And once I didn’t call, it just got easier to keep not calling.”

“But you’re here, now,” Bucky pointed out, feeling a lot closer to his sister than he had in… ever, maybe. He knew. He really did. Hadn’t he done the same thing with Steve. Just not called? “So… peace?”

“Yeah, kiddo. I came back. Peace.”

Tony came back in with a waiter’s drinks tray filled with mugs, carried slightly awkwardly in both hands. He lifted one and offered it to Billie. “Milk,” he assured Becca. “You need anything in your coffee?” The one he handed Bucky was already swirling with milk.

“Three sugars, no milk, please. Mister Tony… who is, exactly?” Becca asked, pointedly, as if proving that Bucky wasn’t the only person in the room allowed to ask awkward questions.

“Itinerant handyman,” Tony responded with a smile that was only slightly tight, even as he dumped several spoonfuls of sugar into one of the remaining mugs. “Been helping with the repairs and renovations.”

“ _And_ my friend,” Bucky added, because even if Becca didn’t care, Bucky wanted Tony to know. He kept staring at the girl, though, trying to trace a resemblance. He couldn’t imagine why Becca wouldn’t tell him, and he was at least grateful to notice that there was absolutely nothing in the child that reminded him of _Steve_ , because that would have been so far beyond weird as to be just… yeah. Bucky shuddered. “So, when’s your birthday, sweetheart?” Bucky was fishing and he knew it, but he was pretty sure Becca wasn’t going to be able to stop him.

Billie held up her hand, thumb tucked in. “I’m this many!” she announced. “An’ then I’m gonna be _this_ many!” She proudly unfolded her thumb. “That’s _five_.”

“School in the fall,” Becca said. “Thank Christ. Daycare’s killing me. You know child care costs more than _college_?”

“No, I don’t reckon I ever had a reason to know that,” Bucky said. “No one’s ever hit me up for child support.” He didn’t want to be angry with his sister. They’d spent most of their lives on the outs, rarely speaking. But at the same time, he was angry. Not to mention the fact that it was damned humiliating to find out something of this magnitude. In front of other people. Who probably expected better of him than that. Jesus, it was like being told someone had died via text message.

Tony picked up the bowl of chips and offered it to him. “You two need to talk? I can take her down to the beach for a bit.”

“Yes--” Bucky said, at the same time, Becca said “No. We’re fine, thank you.”

“Bex--”

“Jimmmmmmmy,” she mocked, dragging his name out like it was a child’s toy on a string.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Bucky snapped. “Okay. I’ll drop it and… you can call me Bucky. And every time you screw it up, you… have to tell me something. Okay? Can we do that? Is that fair?”

Becca turned on Tony with the suddenness of a striking snake. “Is this your doing?” She waved at Bucky like she expected whatever… it was. To be immediately obvious.

Tony looked at Bucky with wide eyes, then looked back at Becca. “Is... _what_ my doing?”

“The… the spine thing. Seriously, baby brother, who gave you a calcium injection? This was never your style.”

“Calcium builds strong bones!” Billie announced. “It’s in milk!” She waved her now-empty mug around, and then set to work on the bowl of chips.

“Right. Okay,” Bucky said. “I’m… had to grow up, Becca. I’ve been tryin’ to do this on my own. Didn’t work out so well, I guess. Let’s… get you upstairs and settled in? I wasn’t expecting two of you, so… uh?”

Becca gave him a flat look. “There were five of us there at one time, I’m quite sure that the house can manage three for a few nights. We can put her in your old room, if nothing else.”

Bucky squeaked. “ _I’m_ in my room. You can… you can take the master. The sheets are clean. It might be a bit dusty in there, I…” Hadn’t opened the door in the year since Dad had died. Once to change the sheets from the bed he’d died in, and once to get his best suit for the funeral. And then he’d shut the door and hadn’t been in there since.

“Wow, really? Well, I’m _totally_ breaking the jacuzzi back in, because seriously, it was a long drive from Atlanta. You want to do that, Billie? Take a whirlpool bath, just like the one down in physical therapy?”

“Yeah!” Billie left off stuffing chips in her mouth to dance over to her mother. “I wanna swim in the swirly water!”

Tony glanced at Bucky curiously, but didn’t say anything, just took another sip of his coffee.

“Mommy, _now_ , are we gonna swim in the swirly water _now?_ ”

“Yes,” Becca told her. “Lemme get our bags, and Uncle Bucky will take you upstairs and show you where you’re gonna sleep, okay?”

Bucky watched as his niece danced around. He turned to Tony, very seriously and said, “I’m quite sure that I’m living in some _alternate dimension_ right now. So, if I don’t come back down here in ten minutes, you can assume I’ve been kidnapped by aliens or something. And… come rescue my ass?”

Tony glanced toward Becca, then smirked and said quietly, “I suppose so. It’s a pretty cute ass.”

Bucky blinked a few times; he wasn’t sure he and Tony were still.. Whatever they had been before Alex’s arrival. But… a little flirting. Maybe? Good. Great. On the other hand, he was definitely going to be sleeping alone tonight, because there were questions he didn’t know the answers to, and being grilled by his sister wasn’t going to help him figure out the answers any faster.

“Come on, then. Upstairs.”


	12. Chapter 12

“I still say,” Becca said, her hands on her hips, “that we should donate all this shit to the Goodwill and burn this fucker to the waterline.”

Bucky choked on that. Not that he didn’t know Becca felt that way, because she’d made no bones about saying so on any number of occasions, but Bucky had never taken her particularly seriously about it, either. For just a cold-blooded moment, Bucky could actually visualize it. Burn it down, salt the ground, leave nothing for the conquerors to take. Leave nothing behind for… (Alex) anybody.

Tony glanced up from where he was packing Ma’s old sewing supplies. “After all the work I’ve done? Nope.”

“Well, that’s hardly my fault,” Becca said. “I suggested it a year ago or so an’ this one seemed to think it was blasphemy. I mean, you did a good job, an’ all, but this old tart’s just painted up pretty. She’s still--” Becca cut herself off, which was probably more because Billie had crawled by at super speed, pushing one of Bucky’s old Tonka Trucks rather than any real sense of delicacy. “I hate this place.”

“I know,” Bucky told her. That was perfectly clear, a dozen times over.

“You know what I don’t hate, though?” Becca asked thoughtfully. “Cogan’s pizza. I haven’t had decent pizza since I left the beach. Atlanta’s got a lot of great places to eat, but… they just don’t do pizza right at all. Cogan’s is a New York style pizza,” she told Tony, giving him a wink, and holy mother of Christ, was his sister flirting with _Tony_? “Betchoo’d like it. Wanna take a girl out for lunch?”

“I like pizza,” Tony agreed easily, and then neatly dodged the possible flirting by adding, “I bet Billie will, too.”

“ _Pizza!_ ” shrieked Billie, running in from the hall to glomph onto Tony. “Can we, Mommy, can we?” Lucky, having heard the magic word, trotted into the room, tongue hanging out in a doggy grin.

“Right,” Bucky drawled. “Pizza. Awesome.” Watching as both his remaining family members pretty much stole Tony right out from under Bucky’s nose was getting a bit much. He gave his sister a challenging stare, then, “last one to the truck’s a rotten egg!”

Becca was a rotten cheater, because she dropped into one of her fancy dance moves and caught his ankle, knocking him to the floor. Before he could recover, she darted past him. “Can’t catch me out, little brother!”

Billie squealed and chased after her mother on chubby legs. Tony followed the whole lot of them at a bemused saunter, apparently content to be the rotten egg. It had never been more obvious that he didn’t have any siblings.

“First loser is a rotten egg,” Becca declared, rattling down the stairs at full pace.

 _Fuuuuck_. Bucky swore, glanced at her, then -- well, fuck it, he hadn’t done it in forever, but he was taller now than he was when he was fourteen, and damned if he was going to lose to his bloody damned _sister_. Bucky vaulted over the balcony rail, turned mid-air and caught himself on the banister. The jerk of his weight pulled at his shoulders harder than he remembered, but… lower… there! His toe caught the porch railing, gave himself a shove and he was away and into the parking lot before Becca cleared the side of the building.

When Tony caught up, Billie clinging to his hand and chattering happily, he gave Bucky a long, unreadable look before he climbed into the back seat of the truck and helped Billie with the carseat Becca fetched from her car.

“All right,” Becca said, still laughing, her face admiring and puzzled at the same time, like she didn’t quite know what to do, now that she and Bucky were… getting along. “I’ll be rotten egg for that. Wow. You… you are somethin’ else, James Barnes. Where th’ hell is Sunshine Rogers, anyway? You two used to be inseparable.”

“Separated,” Bucky said. “Stevie and his girlfriend -- you remember Nat, right? You met her?”

“Yeah, the Russian chick with the weird obsession for flowers, she was at Ma’s funeral.”

“They live up to the beach these days. Just don’t see him much, anymore.” Bucky sighed.

“Look, I meant what I said on the phone last week,” Becca said. “You should come to Atlanta. This… this place doesn’t have any hold on either of us, anymore. It’s done, Bucky. Come back home with me, okay?”

Bucky grimaced, glanced at Tony. “I’ll… that’s generous of you, Bex. Maybe I’ll think about it.”

***

Ghent was a pretty little area, a tiny district inside the sprawling city -- not that Norfolk was a city in any sense of the word that Tony was accustomed to, but he’d looked at the maps. Norfolk was a city and Virginia Beach was a city, and that huge triangle of farmland dotted with shopping malls called Chesapeake was a city. None of them resembled New York City at all, except perhaps in the number of southern pigeons, which Tony had been informed were actually gulls.

Bucky parked his truck on a side street and they all stepped out into the sun. The houses were well landscaped and cozy in a brownstone sort of way. The streets were straight, the sidewalks wide, and the shops that sold food were numerous. The smell on Colonial Avenue was just incredible. Coffee and pizza and Greek spices perfumed the air. Lucky was beside himself with glee, practically tugging the leash off Bucky’s wrist as they made their way up the road.

“This is nice,” Tony observed as they walked. Billie had eschewed Becca’s hand for his, so he kept her to the inside of the sidewalk as they looked around. There were, he realized rather suddenly, a higher percentage of same-sex couples wandering the street. Cogan’s, it seemed, was in the gay part of town.

They crossed the road -- the crosswalk was clearly marked and cars actually stopped to wave pedestrians on -- and just as they made the opposing sidewalk, there came a thundering voice.

“Bucky, my boon companion! I have not seen you in near an age!” And Bucky practically vanished, lifted up by a giant man with bulging biceps and long, blond hair, who gave Bucky a kiss that would have drowned a lesser man.

“Jesus, Thor, get _off_ me, put me down.” Bucky struggled a bit and Lucky bounced around, barking with enthusiasm.

Tony blinked in surprise, and then suddenly Bucky was back on his feet while the blond giant loomed over Tony. “And who have we here?”

Tony offered a hand somewhat doubtfully. “Tony Stark,” he said. “I’m helping with the renovations at Dockside.”

“‘Tis an honor to meet such as yourself. Quite breathtakingly marvelous. I’ve rarely had such pleasure in making a new acquaintance. I am Thor Odinson. And--” he looked around and then “--Rebecca! Old friend, it is a joy! Well, this is a day for many raptures, is it not! So fine to see you again.”

“Thor,” Becca said, and she was smiling, but it was a strange, almost pained smile. “It is good. How… how’s your brother?”

“Quite well, as you can see for yourself in just a moment, he stopped within to-- oh, there he is. Brother! Come, greet our old friends!”

Becca went the pale shade of cottage cheese. “Oh, oh, _no_ ,” she whispered, looking around frantically. “Oh, crap, oh…”

Thor’s brother didn’t seem like he should inspire any such reaction; he was tall (though still shorter than Thor) and slender where Thor was bulky. They were a study in opposites -- Dark and fair, thin and broad. Thor’s brother was impeccably dressed and groomed, unlike Thor, who was in tight jeans and a seam-splitting tee. “What are you blathering on about n--” He stopped, staring at the group of them.

No. At Becca.

Tony looked at Becca’s white face and then at the brother’s dark hair and green eyes, and then he forcibly restrained himself from looking down to check whether Billie’s eyes were an exact match. He already knew they were.

“Rebecca,” the brother said. “It is… quite good to see you again. I did not think I would have the privilege.”

“Loki.”

That was it. One word, and suddenly Bucky’s head snapped up and he stared at his sister.

“We, uh,” Bucky said, gaze flickering from one brother to the next and then… “We were going to get pizza, for lunch. Care to join us? Sounds like… everyone has some catching up to do.” Tony watched him deliberately ignore Becca stepping on his foot.

“There’s an idea,” Tony said, because he couldn’t make Bucky retract the invitation. “Why don’t we just... go ahead and get a table?” He could see the place just up the block, a pleasant patio seating area. He tugged Billie along. “Yeah, let’s... let’s go do that.”

Thor followed after them, deliberately keeping a step behind Tony. Tony had been checked out before; he could almost feel the big man undressing him. “How come you to be with the Barnes’ family?” he asked. “I did not know Bucky was making new friends.” He said this in a tone of both wonder and annoyance, like gossip that didn’t reach him fast enough was intolerable, but also delightful.

“Oh, I just washed up on the beach in front of Dockside one morning,” Tony said vaguely.

“Too bad you did not wash ashore further north,” Thor said. “My father owns many hotels and bars along these beaches. I’m sure the Valhalla would be more to your liking.”

Well. Thor certainly didn’t waste any time getting down to it. A tiny part of Tony wanted to take him up on the offer, to prove (to whom?) that he wasn’t tied to Bucky, the same way Bucky wasn’t tied to him. But the rest of him was left cold by the thought, even though Thor was certainly an attractive man. “I dunno, I rather like Dockside,” Tony said mildly. “It’s... homey.”

“Oh, my god, _Jimmy_ ,” Becca was saying, loud enough that their conversation was drifting most of the way to the pizza parlor. “He’s not an asshole. You’re not an asshol-- wait. Why am I defending him? Why am I _defending_ you? Argh!”

Thor made a rough, rumbling noise in his chest. “It appears quite a lively and spirited discussion. It is not often that one’s brother is the subject of the day,” he remarked. “Fascinating.”

“I think Bucky’s just as surprised as you are,” Tony agreed. “This might be epic.”

Billie, having spotted the pizza parlor, was trying to drag Tony along even faster. “Pizza!” she crowed. “I want extra cheese!”

“Yeah, that can probably be arranged, squirt,” Tony told her. “Slow down, we have to get a table first. Hey, can you count how many chairs we need?”

Billie stopped dead on the sidewalk, apparently unable to count and walk at the same time. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Six chairs, Mister Tony!”

“Good job, kiddo.”

“You do well with children,” Thor observed, then, mock conspiratorially, put an arm around Tony’s shoulders and drew him in. “It is a good look for you. Very… homey.”

A table for six (and one dog) actually ended up being two tables pushed together with some rather unpleasant scraping. Thor combined his weirdly elegant and formal speech with an appalling lack of actual manners to order drinks for himself, his brother, and Bucky. Then he inquired from Billie what her mother usually drank and took the four-year-old at her word. And before the server could escape, he proceeded to request half a dozen appetizers. “They shall, indeed, serve to whet one’s appetite,” he joked, eyes sparkling.

Bucky, Becca, and Loki finally made it to the table around the time the first appetizers arrived. Lucky, who’d been remarkably well-behaved up until that point, sat up and put his head on Bucky’s lap, whining pitifully until Bucky brushed the cheese and garlic off the top of a bread knot and fed it to him under the table.

Tony picked idly at another knot -- it was good, but he was much more amused by the not-quite-argument circling around Bucky and Becca, and then Becca and Loki. Bucky mostly seemed offended by his sister’s choice of partner, whereas Becca and Loki were obviously dancing around some weird combination of custody argument and whether to pick back up where they’d left off five years ago.

“No, that’s absolutely out of the question,” Becca said, shaking enough parmesan cheese on her pizza slice to make it look like a snowdrift. “Jimmy can stay here if he wants, that’s fine, but I have a life in Atlanta. I have _friends_. I have a job. I just bought a house.”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Bucky muttered angrily.

There weren’t words for the supercilious look that Loki directed at Bucky at his insistence. “It is… commendable that you engage with your employment with such… loyalty. Truly, it is of no matter to myself. The Odinson chain travels down the entirety of the coast. Allow me time to inquire as to which might best suit my talents. I’m certain there are at least two locations in Georgia where my father might wisely employ my gifts.”

Thor leaned in close to Tony and informed him, “Father owns hotels, casinos, and other evening entertainment across much of the eastern seaboard. Loki’s position in the family business currently involves the management of our little gem, here, the Valhalla.”

Loki gave Thor a sneer. “Whereas Thor’s position in the family is scapegrace and layabout.”

“Whatsa laybout?” Billie demanded.

“Someone who doesn’t have a job,” Tony told her.

“Oh. Am I a laybout?”

“Nope. Your job is school.”

Billie launched into a description of the school she’d be attending in the fall, which apparently had _two_ playgrounds and was therefore much superior to the preschool she went to. Across the table, Becca was watching her with a smile that was proud and slightly wistful.

“I am satisfied with my life as it is,” Thor said. “Its pleasures are more than equal to enduring the occasional lecture from Father.” He threw his arm around Tony’s shoulders again, nearly engulfing Tony entirely. “They are very great pleasures, indeed,” he suggested.

Tony could only roll his eyes and try to squirm out from under Thor’s heavy arm. “I’m sure they are.”

“It should be the aim of every thinking creature to better itself and its circumstances,” Loki opined.  “Through work, or arts, or service, are we not all obligated to some degree of usefulness?”

Bucky snorted into his Coke. “Think you’re missin’ the boat with that logic, Odinson. Thor’s already achieved perfection, you’ll never convince him to work that way.”

Thor beamed. “‘Tis true that I am, indeed, a prince among men.”

Bucky’s undertone of, “Also, doesn’t understand sarcasm. That’s an issue,” got a laugh from his sister, and Loki’s eyebrow went up. Tony got the impression that Loki was not much given to emotional displays, perhaps in some attempt to counter his very exuberant brother, so, for him, that was high amusement.

By the time lunch was over, Thor had gone through a half dozen or more beers, an epic amount of deep-fried foods,  most of which he’d offered around to share -- Tony was still not sure how he felt about the existence of fried pickles -- and most of a large pizza. When the waitress brought the check, he picked up the entirety of the tab without listening to Bucky’s protest in the slightest.

Billie was covered in pizza sauce and crumbs, and at some point, Bucky had either deliberately, or out of habit, pushed his leg up against Tony’s under the table.

“Ji--Bucky?” Becca said asked, “Can you take Billie over to the comic shop, buy her a present or something? I need…” Her eyes flickered over to Loki briefly. “I just want to have a word, please?”

Bucky hesitated, and Tony was hard pressed not to roll his eyes again. “There’s a comic shop?” he said brightly. “Come on, let’s have a look.” He grabbed a napkin off the table and made some vague effort at getting the sauce off Billie before she started touching things, then took her hand and led her toward the sidewalk. “Come on, Bucky, show us the comic shop. I haven’t been in one in ages!”

Bucky swung back and forth between his obvious desire to cause as much interference as possible to his sister, and the urge to entertain Tony, before finally sighing and giving up Becca and Loki as a lost cause. “Okay. Comics. You like comics? You should, uh, talk to Gabe about that, he’s big into comic collecting.” He wormed his way between Thor and Tony, apparently more willing to let Thor drape himself over Bucky than over Tony. “They’ve got a good collection of stuffed animals, too,” he told his niece. “Like, Pusheen the cat, and stuff. You know Pusheen?”

Billie didn’t, apparently, know Pusheen the cat, but as soon as she saw the fat gray plush, she fell in love. “Can I have it?” she begged, squeezing it to her chest and staring up at Bucky with huge eyes.

Tony was pretty sure Bucky was going to cave sooner rather than later, so he wandered back into the comic stacks. He hadn’t read a comic book in years, but it was nice to see some of his favorites were still running. He thumbed through a couple of the books. The story made no sense at all, but the new artist was definitely an improvement.

Becca and Loki were still outside by the time Bucky had done his duty both as uncle and to the local economy by way of toys and young reader comic books, and “Oh, just let me,” to Tony when Tony brushed his fingers down a trade paperback of one series he’d left behind in Ty’s hands. Finally outside again, and Becca dropped down to hug her daughter.

“Peanut,” she said, hesitantly, “I… want you to meet someone. And it doesn’t change anything, I promise, you’re still as perfect as you always were. Just… adding a little extra on there, okay?”

“Okay,” Billie said, her Pusheen clutched against her chest and her eyes big.

Becca took a breath, steeling herself, and then turned them to face Loki. “This is Loki Odinson,” she said. “Your father.”

Bucky buried his face in his hands and groaned. “She had to say it _outloud_.”

Tony chuckled a little as he patted Bucky’s shoulder. “There, there.”

Billie studied Loki for a moment, then looked back at her mother. “You said I didn’t need a father,” she said, very seriously.

“I’m told it is quite true,” Loki said, “that I am remarkably unnecessary. Certainly not required past the initial moment of your making. But, we all have things that we wish to have, necessary or not. You may consider me as an extra bonus, perhaps.”

Bucky shook his head, still not looking. “He talks to the kid like she’s an _investment broker_.”

“I imagine he’ll learn,” Tony said. “Or she will. Relax, you still get to be the cool one.”

Billie’s face had screwed up in an effort to process Loki’s words. “Are you gonna live with us?”

Becca bounced her daughter a little. “Not at first, peanut,” she said. “But that might happen. What is going to happen is that your father’s going to come down and live in Atlanta for a while, in his own place, and… we’ll see if we can work it out. Is that okay with you?”

Billie considered that for a moment longer, chewing on her lip. Then she looked up at Loki again. “Will you bring me a present?”

“Many presents, princess,” Loki promised. “I have at least four birthdays and some Yule holidays to atone for, at the very least, don’t you agree? I’ve been most negligent.”

Billie bounced on her toes. “Okay,” she agreed. “Mommy, lookit my Pusheen!” She pushed the stuffed cat into Becca’s face.

“And, if it’s also all right with you, princess, I’d like you and your mother to stay over at my hotel, this evening,” Loki continued. “Your mother and I need to speak a while, and I think you’ll be most comfortable without having the drive back to Sandbridge. I have a swimming pool, and there is also an indoor play area, if you’d like to see them.”

“I wanna go swimmin’!” Billie announced. “Mommy, can we go swimmin’?”

“This, I cannot wait to witness,” Thor said, beaming. “The lady will tire of the offer of gifts and my brother will be forced to actually _tend_ his child. It will be delightful.”

Bucky whimpered and put his head on Tony’s shoulder. “This… this is not gonna end well.”

Tony patted Bucky’s head. “Such a pessimist,” he teased. “They seem to be doing fine so far.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, that happened.
> 
> Our headcanon for this is that, yes, in about a year's time, Becca and Loki will settle their family arrangements, and Bucky will end up with the brother-in-law that he never wanted. And yes, it means Billie will never come to them as their adopted daughter, but she will know them, Becca and Loki and Billie will visit frequently, and BECCA will come to if not love, at least hate less, the Virginia Beach area, so they'll be an extended family.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the MJ appearing in this fic is MJ Watson, from the comics and Toby McGuire Spiderman, since she's older. The MJ featured in Homecoming is still in high school with Peter Parker...
> 
> Now with art from [Novarain](https://novarain01.tumblr.com/)

Mary Jane Watson -- “call me MJ” -- was a perky little redhead with endless enthusiasm who’d come recommended by Bucky’s lawyer friend. Jenn had barely glanced at Alex’s proposed arrangement and pronounced it little better than robbery, insisted that Bucky attempt to find a “real buyer,” and then literally dialed MJ’s number on Bucky’s phone and put it in his hand.

MJ had already taken a metric ton of pictures for her real estate company’s website, including working up something she called a three-sixty tour, and was just ushering out an interested buyer when Bucky’s cell buzzed angrily.

“Thanks for comin’ by,” Bucky said. “‘Scuse me for a minute, it’s one of the other buyers.”

MJ had told him, very firmly, that he was always to mention other buyers, if possible, during the conversation. “People are so much more likely to make a bid on something that other people want. It’s our competitive nature, you need to take advantage of it. It’s so good you came to me.” Without waiting for a response, she had turned aside to Tony. “It’s so good he came to me, can you believe he was just going to take the first offer? Like, oh, my god.”

“Alex, hi--” Bucky ignored the cramp that twisted through his belly. Despite MJ’s enthusiasm and Tony’s encouragement, Bucky had neither expected anyone else to actually be interested in the property at all, and he was quite positive that Alex… wasn’t going to be happy about it.

_Tell him no, sometime. See how much he loves you, then._

“I was just thinkin’ about you,” he said, because that was true, even if it probably wasn’t true the way he wanted it to be.

“That’s nice, darling,” Alex said. “I wanted to let you know, this vote is all tangled up in committee, and the budget hearing, I’m swamped right now. You know how it is, very important, busy job. While I’d love to sit around and discuss your little issues with you on the contract, I don’t have time for it. Make yourself available in… hmmm… three weeks? I’ll be down, then.”

“Alex, I--”

The phone went dead in Bucky’s hand and for just a moment, he was absolutely lividly furious with Alex, who couldn’t even be bothered to let Bucky get a damn sentence out? Really? What the hell?

Okay. Yeah. Bucky took a few deep breaths. “Right,” he drawled, to empty air, MJ having gone outside with the potential buyer, probably to gush over the view again, and to give Bucky some minimal privacy. He tried, very hard, not to think of Alex’s call as some sort of reprieve.

It wasn’t supposed to be like that.

Tony stuck his head into the office. “Everything okay? MJ said you had a call.”

“Alex called,” Bucky told him. He waggled his phone around, then put it down, firmly. Avoiding the temptation to hurl it across the room, because that would do absolutely no good whatsoever, _and_ he’d have to buy a new phone.

Tony watched Bucky’s face closely, like he was trying to read Bucky’s mind. “Bad news?”

“Um, probably not, actually,” Bucky said. “He’s… a little too busy to come down tomorrow, like he said. It’s going to be a few weeks. I’m supposed to just… _make myself available_ at his convenience.” His fingers touched the phone screen. _Don’t you throw it, don’t you fucking do it, Barnes._

“Well, that’s... rude,” Tony said, carefully neutral, the way he was when he talked about Alex, and then his mouth quirked into a smile. “We should try to schedule some buyer showings then, so he knows about his competition.”

“Still findin’ it a little unbelievable that anyone else is interested in this place,” Bucky said, “‘specially with the restrictions.” Bucky had been quite firm on that account, if he was going to sell to anyone else, he didn’t want the buyer to plow the building over right away and put up a damn Olive Garden. There wasn’t much he could do about it, really -- once someone else bought it, they could do whatever they wanted, but MJ was culling the prospectives to buyers who seemed honestly interested in maintaining a “heritage building,” as she called it.

Tony scoffed. “It’s a waterfront property, adjacent to a popular tourist location -- and Virginia Beach is getting so crowded, more and more the tourists are spreading out along the coast. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. And it’s a pretty building, and you’re putting a ton of work into the renovations. Of course you’ve got interested buyers.”

“I guess, it’s jus’,” Bucky said, eyeing his phone again and fuming inwardly. Finally, he picked the damn thing up and shoved it in his desk drawer. He was much less likely to throw it if he had to make a production out of it. “I don’t guess it makes sense that… people would wanna buy, since we ain’t barely had enough customers these last few years t’ make bank. Th’ place was dyin’ no matter what I did, an’ I don’t get that.”

Tony shrugged. “Maybe they think they know better than you do how to manage it. Or they have ideas for marketing that they think will work better than whatever you’re doing. Or they’re connected to some kind of crime ring and need a quiet place to launder money.” He grinned at the look Bucky threw him. “Whatever. What does it matter, why they’re interested?”

“I dunno, just does, I guess. Like… this was my Ma’s big thing, an’ I still feel like I’m lettin’ her down, havin’ to sell at all,” Bucky said. He shrugged. “I just wanna feel like, it’s goin’ to good hands?”

“I guess that makes sense,” Tony admitted. “You know you don’t have to pick the buyer who offers the most, right? You can go with whoever gives you the best feel, or whatever. Or stick with Pierce, so you can keep on managing the place if you want. Just make sure you get an honestly fair deal, that’s all.”

Want… Bucky sighed. “I don’t know that I ever even thought about what I _want_.”

“Oh, honey,” Tony sighed. “Then think about it now. Pie in the sky, your fairy godmother shows up and offers you a wish: what do you _really_ want?”

“Steve’s snickerdoodles,” Bucky said without thinking at all. Just, the first thing that popped into his head that he liked, wanted, and hadn’t had for a while.

Tony cocked his head, studying Bucky. “Steve... That’s your friend that you’re on the outs with?”

“Yeah, stupid, right? That’s like, wasting a wish. Steve’s... His mom and my Ma were friends, an’ when Sarah Rogers passed on, my folks fostered Steve. They were gonna send him up to a boy’s home, ‘cause no one knows what happened to his dad. Joe Rogers jus’ lit out as soon as Sarah got diagnosed with hep B. It was pretty awful. So, he lived with us, from ‘bout eleven on. Worked here, ‘til last year. Just after Dad passed on.”

“What happened?” Tony asked.

Bucky stared down at his desk, picked up a pen and flipped it absently through his fingers. “Alex. Alex happened. Again. I… I broke things off with ‘im for a while. It wasn’t… Steve was working all this overtime, tryin’ to cover for me, an’ all I was doin’ was drinking an’ going up to Richmond. Dumpin’ all my shit on him. I broke things off, when… well, when I saw what it was doin’ to Steve, an’ his girl. But then… I dunno, Alex talked me ‘round again. I just… I missed him. I missed him so much. An’ Steve got super pissed, basically yelled at Alex in front of half a dining room full of customers. Called him a… a pedophile, an’ a bunch of other stuff. I… uh… I had to let him go.”

“Wow,” Tony said. “That’s... Yeah, that’s pretty rough. You think he’d ever get over it and forgive you for that?”

Bucky blinked. “He shouldn’t have said that shit. Not… not to a customer. Not, Jesus, I couldn’t allow that, it was... unprofessional.” And Steve, all over. Steve was never one to just sit there when he saw something that he believed was wrong. Bucky’d been hauling Steve out of fights since they were both in the second damn grade, for fuck’s sake. Knowing Steve, he’d come out of the womb with his fists curled.

“Maybe not,” Tony allowed. “But did you fire him because he went off on a customer? Or because he went off on _Pierce_?”

“Alex was so angry,” Bucky whispered. “He… threatened to sue, slander, you know. I-- I already don’t have a great reputation around here, I didn’t need that kind of… you know, courts and reporters and stuff. I had to do it, didn’t I?”

“Probably. Steve probably feels differently, though, if he’s still avoiding you a year later.”

“Yeah, reckon he thinks I’m avoidin’ him,” Bucky said, shoving a hand through his hair. “His birthday’s comin’ up soon. Used to all go up to Busch Gardens for his birthday. He’s big on fireworks an’ adrenaline rides. Wonder if… I dunno, it ain’t like I got more pressin’ stuff anymore.” He wondered if Steve would even take his call.

Tony reached out and opened the drawer where Bucky had dropped the phone. “Give it a shot,” he said. “The worst that can happen is no worse than where you are now.”

 _Action, not reaction_ , Bucky reminded himself. One of Sam’s little mantras that kept sticking around in his head. “Okay… but when it goes to shit, you owe me like… vodka and ice cream. A lot of ice cream. And terrible romcoms, and I’m going to cry all over you. There might be actual tears and snot. It’ll be horrific.”

Tony was laughing at him, but he said, “It’s a deal. Take the plunge.”

Bucky didn’t even have to scroll through his contacts list. Even after a year, Steve’s number and picture -- a candid shot of him surfing -- was at the top of his favorites list. He thought about texting, just to get a feel for which way the wind was blowing. Who the hell called people these days? “‘Til the end of the line,” he said, like a promise. Punched the call button and put the phone to his ear.

Tony beamed and gave him a thumbs-up, but the phone was ringing and Bucky was going to be sick and-- “Buck?”

“Steve,” Bucky said. “Hey, Steve, man, it’s… good to hear your voice.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, “Yeah, it’s good to hear you, too, Buck. What’s... What’s up?”

“Many, many things,” Bucky said. “Look, I know, it’s all sudden and weird, but maybe… you and… tell me you and Nat are still together, I miss my crazy Russian therapy bitch.”

“She’s _Ukrainian_ , Buck. Yeah, of course,” Steve said. “You think I’m letting her go, you’re out of your damn mind.”

“So, uh, that’s great, she’s great. I liked her, a lot,” Bucky said. “So. I was sitting here with Tony, and crazy thing happened. He said, quick, make a wish, what do you want more than anything else, sky’s the limit. And I said… Steve Roger’s snickerdoodles. You know the ones, with that burned sugar crystals on top, like, no one else makes snickerdoodles the way you do. And… I missed you, pal.”

Steve swallowed audibly. “Missed you too, you jerk. Tried making a cheesy all the way a couple of weeks ago, I wanted one so bad, but it just... It’s not the same without the old grill.”

 _Fuuuck_. “Yeah, about that,” Bucky said. “Why… hey, why don’t you come over. You an’ Nat. I’ll make dinner. I ain’t got a lot in th’ freezer, still, but there’s a bit. I’m… I’m selling Dockside, Stevie.”

Shocked breath. “You’re _sellin’_? Buck, that’s... It’s that bad?”

“Nah, it’s good, Stevie. I got a couple interested buyers. I might… Bex invited me to go live down with her in Atlanta. It’s good, it’s… it’ll be okay,” Bucky said. He absent-mindedly wiped his face. It hadn’t occurred to him, really, that Steve loved the place almost as much as Bucky did, would hurt at the news. “Get Nat, come on over, tonight, tomorrow, something. We’ll have dinner and I’ll fill you in. An’ you can meet Tony, I think you’ll like him.”

“Yeah? Guess I owe him something for getting you to call, anyway. Who is he?”

Bucky raised his eyes to look at Tony, trying to figure out how to define him. They weren’t even lovers, not anymore. Friend seemed too mild, employee too business-like. “Uh, Tony… he’s…”

Tony lifted his eyebrows, then leaned over, close enough for Bucky to feel his breath, and said, “Someone who wants to try these famous snickerdoodles!” He grinned and winked at Bucky, then straightened up. “I’m going to go finish that wiring project. You have a good chat.”

Bucky coughed, nodded. “He’s… Tony’s a damn miracle, is what he is.”

Steve actually laughed a little, and it was like coming home. “Okay, Buck,” he said. “We’ll come down... tonight? Yeah, tonight’s good. I’ll bring the snickerdoodles.”

“You better. Been talkin’ ‘em up to Tony,” Bucky said. “Don’t want to disappoint him.”

***

Steve turned out to be not _quite_ as huge a guy as Thor, but he was still pretty big. And the exact same shade of blond as Ty, which was a little weird, because Tony couldn’t stop staring at it. And Steve’s girlfriend, Natalia, was a tiny redhead who spent the whole evening staring at Tony, which was even weirder. It wasn’t a particularly hostile stare, but Tony couldn’t quite escape the feeling that she was reading his entire life’s history in each word and movement.

Steve had been clearly devastated by the news that Dockside was being sold, but he’d let Bucky take him around the place to show off all the renovations they’d done, and he’d agreed they looked good.

True to his word, Steve had brought an enormous container of light, cinnamon-smelling cookies with crunchy sugar tops, along with a bottle of wine and a quart container of coffee crunch ice cream. Bucky made them all cheesy westerns -- cheeseburgers topped with a fried egg and mustard-onion relish -- which they ate while Bucky ran down the short version of events.

“Damn, Buck,” Steve said, shaking his head, “if I’d known Big Jim had let things slip so far...” He sighed and shook his head again. “You really thinkin’ of movin’ to Atlanta?”

Bucky shrugged. “Until about an hour ago, there weren’t nothin’ to keep me here.” He snitched another cookie and committed the indecency of dipping it in his glass of wine. “Why, you wanna open a bakery? Th’ last offer we had on the place, I’d stand to clear close to a hundred-fifty, once Becca and the bills are paid off. Damn, I’d forgotten how good these are.”

Tony wondered whether he should feel hurt that he was part of the _nothing_ that Bucky wouldn’t mind leaving behind, or elated that Pierce wasn’t a reason to stay, either. The roil in his stomach was probably the wine and rich food.

“I’ve had worse jobs, this past year,” Steve said thoughtfully.

“He has had many worse jobs, this year,” Nat contributed. She’d let everyone have a scoop of ice cream and was hording the rest of it, hugging the container and brandishing a spoon at people when they even looked at it. “Many stupid jobs. He is, now, put a stand together on the beach, to draw ridiculous pictures of the tourists, all big eyes and small mouths and tiny little bodies, and they _pay him_ for this?”

“Caricatures?” Tony said. He eyed Steve, whose bodybuilder physique didn’t exactly scream _artist_. “Huh. Any good?”

Steve eyed Tony speculatively for a moment, then plucked a pen out of his pocket, snagged a napkin and squinted. “Hold still.”

Tony blinked, then grinned, and held his pose. It didn’t take Steve very long to finish it, a sketchy drawing of what was recognizably Tony’s head perched on a tiny cartoon body. He was holding an enormous screwdriver in one hand and a hammer in the other, looking at a scribble that was probably supposed to represent a pile of broken parts. A little constellation of question marks danced around his head.

Tony laughed, delighted. “You _are_ good,” he said. “I’m impressed!”

“That’ll be fifteen dollars, sir,” Steve said, “or I can do line art, or color, and you can come back and pick it up around sunset.” He gave Tony an expectant smile.

Nat shoved Steve’s elbow off the table. “He has patter, you see. Depending on look of tourist. He judges the amount they are willing to pay, pretty well. Prices change. He must also be careful, older women must not look _old_ , smooth out the lines. Flattering, but still, they must look enough like themselves. And the whole time, he talks, what they like to do, what they are enjoying. The art is good. But Steven… Steven does not like _people_. He says he feels like a trained monkey.”

Tony nodded. “I’ve never been great with people, either. Well, some people. But the people who can’t see who you are because of what you are. Those people, no.” He shrugged. “And I bet the tourists drop off a lot after the summer’s over. You guys serious about the bakery thing?” He glanced between Steve and Bucky, curious. Neither one of them had actually apologized for the incident that had come between them; could they really work together again?

“Bakery is less work than restaurant,” Nat pointed out. “Not so many staff needed. Cashier, cook, manager. We could do it. I… well, I am working at the aquarium, they have a program, where I can finish my doctorate.” She gave Tony a quick smile. “I had to drop out, for a while. They know this, and money, it’s not so easy to raise. I am still not yet a citizen --” this was accompanied with a tip of her mouth at Steve “--because someone would rather have milk than buy cow, I am told.”

Bucky almost knocked his wine glass over, snorting at that.

Tony coughed out a laugh, once it became obvious that this was a long-standing in-joke that Steve was just going to roll his eyes at. He asked Nat, “Doctorate in what?”

“Slime,” Bucky told him, earnestly. “She studies slime. It’s horrific.”

“Marine conservation,” Nat said, ignoring Bucky completely. “Ocean pollution levels, rebuilding the fish population. Algae, yes, is important. But it is not all slime.”

“Okay, that’s very cool,” Tony said. It had nothing at all in common with his own aborted studies, but it was still very cool.

Bucky and Steve were exchanging a speculative look, bent over another napkin, while Steve sketched out some rough numbers. “It could work, Stevie,” Bucky told him, earnestly. “If… well, if you’re willing t’ come back and work for me again, after… after I was such an ass. I’m… sorry about that. I wish I could take it back.”

Steve stopped, his pen stilling. “I... should’ve at least waited and said my piece outside, away from the other customers,” he admitted. “They didn’t need t’ hear all that. ‘M sorry for that.”

Nat looked up and nodded, satisfied by something. “These two, squabble like brothers. Always. As if they will not die for the other. Stupid. You… you are good for Bucky, I think. You will stay, help us with this cupcake shop, yes? Maybe we will convince Steven that it can be a cupcake and _ice cream_ store, then, what need do I have for fancy degrees? I will sample everything and become the expanding Russian frontier.”

Tony chuckled and ignored the ache in his chest that longed for it. “I thought you were Ukranian.”

“I am,” she said. “But Russia, it just… blobs all over the place, like Godzilla. I would not taint my own country’s reputation by becoming a glutton. I will blame Putin. Sounds like a good plan.”

“Blame everything on Putin,” Tony agreed. “It’s probably his fault somehow, anyway.” He glanced at Bucky, who was watching Steve and looking like his world had just gotten ten times less miserable.

“But we must go,” Nat said, nudging Steve. “They will talk all night, if we let them. But I will fall off the back of the bike, if I get too tired, and then Steven will have to find a new girlfriend. Which is just terrible. He is so, so very bad at flirting. Where will he find another woman to take pity on him?”

“Nowhere,” Bucky said. “I remember him askin’ you out th’ first time.” He turned to Tony. “Literally, he took one look at her and fell down th’ damn escalator. It was tragic. So, so uncool.”

“My shoelace got stuck in the treads,” Steve protested.

Tony held up his hands in surrender. “You’re the guy with the smoking hot girlfriend. I’m not arguing with whatever methods you used.”

“Thank you,” Nat said, fluttering her lashes at him. “When I finally give up on this one making a proposal, I will come hang about you, and you will marry me, so I do not have to go home and wed my brother’s best friend. If we could even find him, these days.”

“It’s a deal,” Tony said, laughing. “But you have to promise to keep Steve from squashing me like a bug.”

Tony found himself engulfed in a hug, Bucky yanking him back to cradle Tony against his chest. “I saw him first,” Bucky told Nat. “You go find your own.” Bucky was grinning, and being silly, and yet…

Maybe Tony wasn’t _nothing_ , after all.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Bucky and Tony can't keep their hands off each other and they're falling back into bed (still without resolving their relationship issues! BAD! Boys! Talk to each other!) so if you're smut adverse, you can pretty much skip this chapter.

Watching Steve walk out the door was… well, it was nice. Some of Bucky’s balance was back, some of the foundation where he’d built his entire life was… more stable. Damn, he’d missed Steve. Missed him so much.

Aaand, he still had his arms around Tony, which, he probably shouldn’t be doing. Everything had just seemed exactly right. Sitting close enough to Tony that he could feel the heat of the man’s skin, watch his eyes as he talked, listened to the sound of his voice. Sitting across from Steve, who was… everything. His rock. His light.

It was like being able to see after groping around in the dark for days.

“Thank you,” he told Tony, loosening his grip. “For this.”

“You turn into a sad panda every time Steve comes up,” Tony said. “It wasn’t hard to guess you missed him.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, although he sort of resented being called a sad panda. He wasn’t _that_ bad. “Best friends, you know. Meant everything to me. Sucks that I was bein’ stupid so long. Almost lost it. Still got some work to do, you know. I can feel it, that little… caution. You know what I mean.” The same way he felt right now. Tony still hadn’t moved out of Bucky’s embrace, even though it wouldn’t have been difficult to step away.  

“Yeah, I know,” Tony agreed. “I liked them, too. Glad you got to get back on line with him. You seem much happier.”

“Better,” Bucky agreed. “So much better. I wouldn’ta done it without you, you know. I’s bein’ stupid, had my head stuck so far up my own backside, I swear. Like, I don’t know. I had to be right about it, maybe? An’ I kept choosing to be right, rather than to be happy. Stupid.”

“My mom always told me I didn’t know how to pick my battles,” Tony said. He leaned into Bucky a little further. “Okay, wish granted: Steve’s snickerdoodles. That might’ve been worth a wish, honestly. What’s next?”

“It’s your turn,” Bucky told him. God, that little curl of hair, right over Tony’s ear, it was just so tempting. Bucky wanted to twist it around his finger, wanted to nuzzle at Tony’s ear, and… needed to stop thinking about that almost immediately, because Tony was still leaning on him, and it was going to be a little bit obvious if Bucky sprouted wood against Tony’s lower back. “Sky’s the limit. What do you want?”

Tony hummed a little, thinking about it. “Right now? I want you to kiss me.”

“Yeah?” Bucky could feel his heartbeat in his throat, suddenly, like the thrum of a bass guitar. “Thought… thought I screwed that up, somethin’ fierce. Didn’t…” He licked his top lip, and turned Tony’s chin, just a little. “Wish granted.”

Tony’s mouth was sweet with wine and cookies, and Bucky had missed him. It wasn’t the same as missing Steve, who Bucky didn’t think about most of the time, had shoved that pain into a closet and barricade the door. Missing Tony had been… somehow worse and better at the same time because Tony had been right there. In arm’s reach, and every time Bucky wanted to reach for him, he was reminded that he’d lost that right. But at the same time, Tony had still been there, where Bucky could look and listen, wish and wonder.

That stupid little flutter woke the fuck back up, went to town in Bucky’s stomach, twisting and aching and burning all at the same time. “Tony, I…”

Tony twisted around in Bucky’s arms and kissed him again, licking into Bucky’s mouth like it was the only way to save his life, hungry and desperate. “Stop thinking,” Tony ordered, “and take me to bed.”

Bucky smiled, interupting the kissing, which sort of sucked, but at the same time, he couldn’t help it. “Ain’t that two wishes, sweetheart?”

Tony huffed. “You want me to take it back?”

“Not even a little,” Bucky swore, and dove back in to kiss Tony again, to paint his mouth with soft licks and nuzzles, to feel Tony’s lithe form against him. “God, _Tony_. Upstairs… let’s go, or I’m gonna take you right down t’ the floor, and that might be jus’ a little crude, darlin’.”

“Crude has its place,” Tony said, but he stepped back, catching Bucky’s hand in his. “But I like the idea of a bed.” He stepped back again, pulling Bucky along with him, out the door and to the stairs.

It didn’t take Bucky long to get with the program, following Tony (and Tony’s perfect ass) up the stairs. It was hard to keep his hands to himself, so he didn’t, trailing fingers down Tony’s neck, and the back of his arm, and then down, grabbing that ass, teasing and tempting and touching, all the way up the stairs until he pinned Tony up against the door to his house.

“I want you,” he told Tony, and then kissed him again, holding Tony in place, one hand clasping Tony’s wrists over his head, the other running up and down that warm, writhing body. “Want you, need you, I…”

Tony rolled his body against Bucky’s and didn’t try to pull his hands out of Bucky’s grip. “You got me,” he said, voice low and rough. “I’m right here, wanting you, too.”

Bucky was on fucking fire, almost enough to just forget about the bed, to rub and rut against Tony until they both came in their pants like high schoolers. Only a small sliver of sanity pointed out that it would be better, slow. It would be better, in a bed. Where he could do everything, anything they both wanted. “Yeah, okay,” Bucky said. “Okay, I…” He reached for the doorknob and twisted it.

Tony was a little heavier than he’d actually thought -- put on a bit of weight from eating regularly, and Bucky was glad of it -- but it meant Bucky almost knocked them both over with his scoop, picking Tony up over the threshold like he was a goddamn bride. He staggered, then got his feet under him.

Tony laughed, clutching at Bucky’s shoulders. “Okay,” he said. “That’s different, I-- Shit, don’t knock over the lamp!” He lifted his leg out of the way. “I was not expecting this.”

Bucky didn’t really know what had come over him, honestly. “Just happy, sweetheart,” Bucky told him, tipping sideways to get through the hall without scraping Tony’s feet against the wall. Four steps down and a right turn into his bedroom. Kissed Tony again, soft and gentle, and then laid him down on the bed. Bucky took a moment to just look at him there, sprawled across the sheets like an offering to some ancient pagan god. “Tony… can I… do you want…” He kicked his shoes off and knelt down on the side of the bed so he was level. “Will you let me make love to you?”

Tony groaned and pulled Bucky to him for a kiss. “God, how are you even _real_ ,” he murmured, scattering kisses and sweet, sharp nips over Bucky’s lips. “Yes, _god_ , please.”

Bucky’s throat ached with longing, and everything south of his bellybutton turned into liquid fire. “Hang tight, then. I got… lube an’ condoms in th’ bathroom.” He scrambled to his feet, yanking his shirt off as he went. It took him a few minutes of digging through cabinets and emptying one entire box full of random sample-sized soap and shampoos before he found what he was looking for. Checked the dates, but they were still okay.

And then he had to sit down on the toilet lid for a few seconds and breathe, because he wanted this, wanted it so much, and…

Jesus Christ, what _was_ this?

It was starting to remind Bucky a little of that desperate need that… somehow, he’d lost. It wasn’t just that Tony was a man, a good looking one, willing and eager for Bucky’s touch, but that it was _Tony_. It was Tony, and somehow, Bucky’d earned back the right to touch him, to kiss him, to lay down with him.

_It’s fine, everything’s fine. Get back in there before you screw it up again._

Tony hadn’t gone anywhere. In fact, he’d taken off his shoes and socks and his shirt and was lounging on Bucky’s bed in just his jeans. His body was well-toned from all the work, arms and chest and abs all sharp angles and curves of muscle. Bucky had seen it before, but somehow, it felt new and different this time. Tony smiled at Bucky, sweet and wicked. “There you are. I was wondering if I’d have to get started without you.”

“Might kill me t’ watch that,” Bucky swore, trying not to swoon like he was in a goddamn bodice ripper. “But, damn, I bet that’s hot as hell. You could… you know, give it a go. If you wanted.” Bucky knew he wanted. He was also pretty sure he’d last about five seconds of watching Tony jerk off before he’d have to touch and taste and lick and help.

“Yeah?” Tony grinned wider, and his hand slid down his chest, over his abs, slowly under the waistband of his jeans. “You want to help me get these things off?” Bucky could see the outline of his hand moving under the fabric, stroking slowly.

“Yes. Definitely, yes,” Bucky said. “Unzip ‘em for me?” He tugged light at the cuff, letting his fingers brush against Tony’s ankle. Tony mostly wore loose-fitting, comfortable jeans, the sort of things he could work in, and when he lifted his hips to shimmy, Bucky yanked, pulling the whole pair off in a single motion, like a tablecloth trick. Blink and you’ll miss it, naked Tony.

Oh, God.

Tony’s hand curled around his cock again, giving it a long, slow stroke, the thumb swiping over the head. “Like what you see?”

“Do you even know,” Bucky said, breathless, unable to stop staring. “You even know what you do to me?” He wet his lips, chewing the bottom one, eyes flickering from spot to spot; that beautiful prick, long legs and white thighs, Tony’s wrists, narrow and graceful and perfect. A flat belly with a twist of dark hair, up to pink, perfect nipples. Watched the way Tony’s head rolled back, displaying his throat in a submissive plea.

“Feel free to come over here and show me,” Tony said. He stroked again, easy and slow, rolling his hips up into the touch. “Want to get my mouth on you.”

Bucky shucked his jeans, tossed the lube and condom onto the bed and crawled over to Tony. Ran a hand down his arm, teased up his sides. “You do that, baby, an’ you can have anything you want.” It took them a minute to work it out, the best angle where Bucky could watch, while Tony did all the damn work. It was carnal, brutal, perfect, wonderful. Touching, that Tony would, that he didn’t even seem to mind at all, was actually _eager_.  

Tony flicked his tongue over Bucky’s cock, glancing up through his lashes, like he wanted to make sure Bucky was watching. Breathed hot down its length and cool again coming back up. Slow, easy licks from base to tip, teased his tongue around Bucky’s slit, and then sucked the head into his mouth. He made that _sound_ , that satisfied, pleased sound, like this was just as good for him as it was for Bucky.

“Oh, god,” Bucky arched back, letting his hands take his weight. His eyes kept fluttering shut, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop watching. Tony was so wanton and completely shameless. Bucky knew he’d be blushing and hot all over if Tony was watching him, if Tony was whispering instructions in Bucky’s ear, and oh, God, Bucky’s dick throbbed thinking about that, wanting that, wanting to utterly give himself over to Tony’s care.

Next time.

If there was a next time.

_Stop puttin’ the damn cart in front of the horse._

“Slow down, baby,” Bucky told him. “We got all night, an’ I want it to last. I want… I want… oh, god, Tony, I want to be in you when you come, want to feel it all around me.”

Tony groaned, the vibrations of it echoing up Bucky’s dick and right into his balls. Tony pulled off, though, and climbed up Bucky’s body to claim his mouth, hand sliding over Bucky’s chest and shoulder, down his arm and back up, along the side of his neck and up into his hair as they kissed and kissed, every inch of Bucky’s mouth mapped by Tony’s talented tongue.

“God, you’re so…” Bucky couldn’t even find words, but wanted Tony to know, wanted him to _understand_ , to feel. “Perfect an’ precious an’ gorgeous an’... come on, baby, here, lay back, let me take care of you, I want that, can I… you want that?” He ran his hand down Tony’s spine, then traced the line of his crack, soft and teasing until he was rubbing a circle around Tony’s hole.

“Oh, god,” Tony rasped, going limp for a moment. “God, that feels... Yeah, honey, that’s...” He rolled off Bucky, sprawling across the bed with his limbs spread, inviting Bucky in. “Want you. Come and touch me, please.”

It took Bucky a minute to find the lube; they’d practically buried it, shifting and twisting around on the blankets. “Yeah, there you are,” Bucky said. He wet his fingers and went back to teasing, pushing Tony’s thighs apart. “Does it ache, here, darling? Want me to take care of you?” Bucky swept his fingers over, down, around, circling and tracing lines until Tony was writhing, his hips rocking up for more, more. Bucky pushed one fingertip in, just to the first knuckle, feeling how tight and hot Tony was. Twisted his wrist a little and as Tony inhaled to moan, leaned down and took Tony’s cock into his mouth, licking a line all the way down. When he reached the base, he thrust in with his finger, breaching Tony’s opening.

“Oh, _god_ ,” Tony panted. “Oh god, Bucky, more!” His hands clenched and opened in the sheets, restless, and his hips bucked up a little before he forced them to be still. “God, honey, that’s so damn _good_.”

Bucky moaned an affirmative around Tony’s dick. In and down, playing with Tony’s ass, getting him stretched and wide and ready, using his mouth to tease Tony’s dick, licking away the spurts of precome. He could do this for hours, it felt like, listening to Tony whimper and moan and whine, watching him twist and flex.

“Don’t come, baby,” Bucky told him, pulling his mouth off Tony long enough to let him cool, just a little. “Want you t’ wait for me. You can do that, right?” He was up to three fingers, and he curled them, gently, brushing against Tony’s prostate.

Tony let out a sustained whine. “Not if you keep doing tha-a-aaat,” he groaned. “Oh fuck, Bucky, please, I’m ready, just... I need you in me, now.”

And Bucky needed to be there. More than anything, more than breath in his body, more than blood in his veins, he needed this man, this moment.

Just rolling on a condom shouldn't have him shaking with urgency, but he was. He had to stop, hover over Tony for a long, breathless moment, letting just the head of his cock drag over Tony's hole. Counted backward, anything to pull himself back or he was going to come against Tony's thigh.

Tony bucked up under him, and Bucky couldn't wait anymore. Propped himself on one arm and used two fingers to spread Tony open. “I got you,” he promised.

Tony squirmed and panted, trying to draw Bucky further into his body. “C’mon, I need it, I want it.” His head tossed, and he wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, tangling his fingers in Bucky’s hair, tugging on it. “Need you now.”

Bucky shivered, his hair hanging around his face, the ends tickling at his jaw. Pushing into Tony’s body was like sliding across velvet. Heat and tight and glorious. He’d never felt anything like it, never wanted anything else. He tucked his arms under Tony’s back, pulling them closer together, skin to skin. The intimacy of it, so much more than just sex, made him quiver. His mind was shutting down, leaving him in a deep haze of feeling and sensation.

Bucky moved, slow, because anything other than slow wasn’t possible. He tucked his face into the warm, safe spot at Tony’s throat, breathing in the scent of him. Tony’s arms went around Bucky’s back, locking them together. To be held like that, welcomed and cradled in Tony’s body, to want and be wanted-- it hurt and it ached, shoving away all the careful, safe numbness that Bucky had wrapped himself in for years. Tore it away and left him raw and reeling.

“Tony…”

“Right here, sweetheart,” Tony promised. “I’m with you. God, you feel good. So full...” Tony lifted his head to nuzzle into the curve of Bucky’s neck, licking and sucking.

Bucky rocked with him, moving, stroking, each heart beat one of heat and need and desire. Tony was slick and he was tight, and he was perfect, each thrust of his hips meeting Bucky’s, driving him in deeper, pulling them closer together until Bucky was rubbing against Tony with his whole being. They kissed, sloppy and wet and panting for breath. Bucky sucked on Tony’s earlobe and Tony bit down on Bucky’s neck. It was raw and unrestrained and it was the best fucking thing Bucky had ever done. He lost track of time, just the endless movements, driving him closer, chasing bliss.

“Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod,” Tony gasped. “Bucky, honey. So good, so... Want to touch myself, want to come. Can I, let me, please...” His hand was stroking Bucky’s side, low, teasing at the spot where Bucky’s hips were pressed into Tony’s.

Bucky pressed even closer. “What would you do, baby, if I said _no_?” He shifted his balance, getting a hand between them, curled his fingers loose around Tony’s dick. Teasing, ruthlessly, not giving him near enough friction. “What if I said… I want to do it myself?”

Tony threw his head back and groaned. “Oh, god, yes, please, just... God, I need it, need you, honey, _now_.” His hips jerked up, trying desperately to fuck into Bucky’s touch, to gain just that little bit more friction that he needed.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bucky crooned, stroking, his hand tightening a little with each thrust until he was fucking Tony hard and fast, moving his hand in time. He twisting his hips at the end, aiming for that sweet spot deep inside Tony’s body. “You’re so perfect. Come on, come on, Tony, let go, I’ll catch you.” He let Tony take over the pace, reacting to each desperate heave of Tony’s body.

Tony curled one leg over Bucky’s hips and clenched his hands tight as he fucked up into Bucky’s hand and back down onto Bucky’s cock, a thready whine slipping from his throat. He kissed Bucky, sloppy and needy and desperate, trailed open-mouthed kisses down Bucky’s throat and shoulder as his rhythm stuttered, his breath catching in his throat.

He tossed his head and then his whole body arched up into Bucky’s, shaking with tension as he came, a warm, wet spurt trapped between their bellies, covering Bucky’s hand. He clenched down on Bucky so hard it was almost painful. “Oh god, oh _fuck_ ,” Tony gasped, shuddering through his aftershocks. “Oh god, that...”

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky murmured, “that was perfect, that was just beautiful, that’s my boy, oh, Tony, oh, god, I…” He groaned, shook, and shattered, everything inside him turning to quicksilver, bright and brilliant and hot. He didn’t know how it could keep getting better, but it did. He rode it out, a few ragged thrusts until everything behind his eyeballs was a fuzz of white. He collapsed, unable to hold himself up any longer, crying Tony’s name and shivering.

Tony’s hands were stroking soothingly over his back, drawing spirals and swirls, and Tony was nuzzling at his neck and ear. “So good,” he purred, “you were amazing. That was... just perfect.”

Bucky took a few minutes to try to find his scattered wits. “Feels so good when I’m with you,” he told Tony. “Like nothin’ else. I…” _love you._ Bucky blinked, a thin strand of ice cold steel sliding right through his belly. Did he? It wasn’t like how he felt about Alex, but… Fuck. He didn’t know. And Tony deserved better, anyway. Not Bucky’s useless, confused affection that might be something else. Tony deserved Bucky’s certainty, if he gave it at all. That was only fair. Bucky bit down on his lip until he tasted the faintest hint of blood. “I hope you don’t ‘spect me to move any time soon.”

Tony laughed, and oh, that was kind of weird, where they were still joined and pressed together. “You say that as if you think I _can_ move.” He tipped his head to nip at Bucky’s ear. “You make a pretty good blanket.”

Bucky laid his head down on Tony’s chest and let himself drift, listening to Tony’s heart under his ear.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains some Domestic Abuse (Hi Alexander Pierce, you asshole) and a panic attack. Keep in mind your own mental health, and as always, you can hit us up for more details.

Tony typed a formula into the spreadsheet and hit Enter. He could almost watch the individual cells catching up with the updated formula, one at a time. Bucky desperately needed a new computer. Finally, after what seemed like forever (probably just shy of three seconds) the screen had finished updating.

“Okay, so there are the hard numbers -- the offers and the conditions and the timelines,” Tony said. “Now, I know you said you didn’t really like the Petersens’ plans for the place, so I colored their column gray, here. You can see the numbers if you want to, but if you like one of the others more, you don’t have to pay much attention. How did you feel about the Vaughns?”

“He keeps talkin’ over his wife, which annoys th’ shit out of me, but their plans aren’t too bad. I like the idea of a little vacationy bed an’ breakfast thing. It sounds cute. Give people a place to make good memories,” Bucky said. He was absently chewing on the end of his pen and was going to get ink in his mouth, probably, if he kept it up.

“Okay,” Tony said. “They’ve got a good bid, but they want to wait a little longer to close than the next ones down the line. How long can you afford to wait?”

Tony had to keep prodding Bucky to answer the questions; it was like Bucky was hoping Tony would just tell him what to do. Which absolutely wasn’t happening; Tony would build all the spreadsheets and pro/con diagrams for Bucky that he wanted, but he couldn’t make subjective judgements, and he definitely wasn’t making any decisions.

“That Final Notice is due the first of November,” Bucky said. “If I can’t pay that, by then, in full, the bank’ll seize this place and I got nothin’. With the way real estate deals go, MJ reckons I want to close at least a full month before that, in case there’s last minute delays. And, there’s always last minute delays. Right?” Bucky eyed Tony, like he was looking for approval or reassurance. And when he wasn’t doing that, sometimes he was just staring out into space, like the answer was going to be written on the damn wall.

“I’ve heard that, with real estate. Never been something I’ve dealt with, myself. But it probably pays to listen to the professional. If she says give it a month, then you should give it a month. C’mon, honey, you need to pull yourself together and get with the program, here.”

“I’m here,” Bucky said. “I’m listenin’. I’m just… thinkin’. You think we can find somethin’ up to the beach where it’d be cheap enough to live that we might convince Wanda and Peter to move? Wanda hates driving, but if this bakery thing happens, I’d like to offer her a job. You know, she’s so nervous, and she was finally comfortable here.”

And he kept saying _we_ , as if he expected Tony to still be around once Dockside had been sold. Which was warming and a little worrisome, at the same time. Tony wished he knew what the heck was going on in Bucky’s head. “That sounds like another question for the professional real estate person,” Tony pointed out. “But I’d guess you want to put more weight into finding a good spot for sales, more than a place your employees might be able to walk to. No good having it in a good spot for Wanda if you fold after the first six months.”

“Yeah, okay, okay,” Bucky said, brushing it off, like if he and Steve were working _together_ , everything else was negligible. Like failure wasn’t even an option. And admittedly, Steve was a damn good baker; he’d come over twice more since that first dinner together, once with little desserts that looked like cactuses in planters and tasted like someone made chocolate and coffee go have delicious, creamy babies together, and the other time with a full worked up ink and color caricature of Tony and Bucky together, with Bucky looking heart-eyes at an oblivious Tony who was drinking a mug of coffee. It was hilarious and perfect and heartbreaking and Tony adored it at first look. “So, uh. I like the Vaughns idea, but Ellis is offering the most. He was a little cagey about what he wanted to do with the place, but damn, the money is _good_.”

“If that’s not bothering you,” Tony said, “then go ahead and consider it. Or see if you can get him to spill the beans. Maybe see if he’ll still take the place if you’ve got a rider in the contract about usage? I don’t know if that’s legal at all. Again, you’ll need to talk to MJ.”

There was a sudden bang from the dining room and the little doorbell uttered a startled JANG! before ringing like normal. “James!”

Bucky jerked his chair like someone prodded him with a hot poker. “Oh. Oh, fuuuuu--”

“James, are you here! I know you are!”

“What the hell,” growled Tony. “He can’t just barge in here like that!”

Bucky scrambled up from his chair, practically shoving it across the office in his haste. He pushed past Tony as if Tony wasn’t even there. “Alex, hey, I’m here, yeah.”

Damn it. Dammit, dammit, _dammit_. Tony had thought they’d been getting somewhere. Somewhere that wasn’t dominated by Bucky’s obsession with Pierce. He took a deep breath and followed Bucky out of the office.

It was so easy to forget how good looking Pierce was, until he was in the room. In Tony’s head, he had claws and fangs and was generally trollish and unattractive; which meant when he saw the man, for just a moment, he was slammed, all over again, by Pierce’s innate charisma. He was the kind of man that might make you walk right into a refrigerator because you didn’t notice it.

“What, James, what, tell me, what’s the meaning of this?”

Pierce slammed a handful of color printouts onto one of the tables.

Bucky bounced up onto his toes to look. “What? It’s th’ listing fliers, that’s all.”

“That’s all, is it? I thought we had an agreement, I was trying to help you out, make things easy for you and uncomplicated, that’s what you said you wanted, right?”

Jesus, he was _just_ like Ty, there. Trying to make it sound like he was the one doing the favor, that Bucky should be grateful that Pierce was trying to screw him over. MJ had been even more scornful of Pierce’s offer than Jenn had; it wasn’t even on the spreadsheet.

Tony stepped forward, because Bucky had that mouse-caught-in-a-snake’s-gaze look going again. “You can’t blame him for wanting to test the market.”

Pierce blinked, like he hadn’t even noticed Tony was in the room, then drew himself up. “I don’t recall inviting you to the conversation.” He settled his jaw, and then gave Bucky that shark’s grin again. “You know I love you darling, but really, you’re just not cut out for this sort of thing. It’s all development these days. They’ll plow the place right down and put up an Olive Garden, and you know that. I’m offering you a way to stay here, to keep your mother’s dream alive. Winifred wouldn’t want to see this place torn down, would she?”

Bucky took a deep, hitching breath, and he looked terrified, like a kid who was going in front of the principal for the first time. “You know, oddly enough, I think Ma would have wanted me to be _happy_ , strange as that sounds.” He glanced around, and his expression got a little harder, a little more determined. “I’ve had some good offers, Alex. But this doesn’t have to mean no, it just means, maybe you need to up your investment. Other people seem to think the property is worth more than you’re valuing it.”

Tony almost cheered. He barely managed to bite back the sound. The look on Pierce’s face was beyond dangerous. Less like Ty, and more like Howard, in fact.

“That is unfair as well as untrue,” Pierce told him. “The less money I spend on the property, the more I’ll have for improvements. As well as an advertising budget. Your mother relied on word-of-mouth advertising and that worked well enough while she was here, but… well, James, we all know you have a very _different_ reputation.” Pierce glanced at Tony as if underscoring the point and then his gaze narrowed, jerking from Tony and Tony’s face to Bucky, and then back. His frown got darker.

“My reputation doesn’t matter, if I’m not staying on as manager, does it,” Bucky said, flinching. “We can start over, start a new business. If I take one of these offers. Or… look, advertising, improvements, that’s _good_. We can add a rider in, a clause, that makes it part of the purchase deal. You’re giving at least thirty percent below market, put in mandatory budgeting for the next five years, for upgrades. I’ll stay on and supervise and give advice on those--”

“You’re questioning _my_ word? James, darling, what have I done to deserve that?”

“It’s just good business,” Tony interrupted. Maybe he could draw some of that dangerous attention away from Bucky. Pierce couldn’t really hurt him, not the way he could hurt Bucky. “It’s not personal.”

Pierce scoffed, but didn’t take his attention off Bucky. “Get rid of this guy, would you? He’s just egging you on. You don’t want to listen to him.”

Bucky shivered, but stood his ground. “Tony stays. He’s been a great asset, these last few months and I value his opinion. I’m not selling to you. Not… not with that _gentleman’s agreement_ you dropped on my desk. It was practically extortion and what’s more, Alex, I think you know that. I’m not sure it was ever a good idea to consider selling to _you_. It’s… it’s a conflict of interest.”

“How _dare_ you--”

The crack of Pierce’s hand across Bucky’s cheek was obscenely loud. “How dare you speak to me like that, after everything I’ve done for you? Everything I’ve given you? James, I am appalled.”

Tony’s whole body froze. It was Howard all over again, only this time it wasn’t Tony in the monster’s gaze, but Bucky. _Go over there and defend him!_ something screamed in his brain, but he couldn’t seem to take a step, couldn’t draw a breath to speak, as stunned as if he’d been the one to take the blow.

“How--” Bucky gasped. He lifted his face and his cheek was brilliant red. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears and the expression on his face was utterly dead. Tony knew that look; it wasn’t that it hurt, although it did, it hurt a _lot_. It was that it was utterly humiliating, being taken from the position of an adult, of a _person_ , and thrust right down in the mud with the dogs. “How long have you wanted t’ do that, Alex? You need a second shot, get it out of your system?” Bucky lifted his chin defiantly and offered Alex his other cheek.

“James,” Pierce said, his tone almost conciliatory, almost. But not quite. There was a note of warning there, still. _That was just a taste, boy, if you don’t shape up._

“My name is Bucky,” Bucky said. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, leaving a red smear of blood behind. “We’re done here. I’m not taking your offer. I’m not taking your money. I’m not taking anything from you, ever again. Not anything. You understand that? We’re _done_.”

Tony breathed again, relief even sweeter than the oxygen in his lungs. He broke through the paralysis and stepped forward, and again, until he was standing beside Bucky. He didn’t say anything. He hoped Bucky understood.

“You haven’t come near as far as you think you have,” Pierce said, pointing a finger. “But I know who you are. I know what you’re like.”

“And what, exactly, do you think you’re going to tell people without them wondering how you know that? You think you’re going to tell people I’m perverted and sick, and that they’re not going to wonder… how do you know, Alex? Do you know because you put your hand on my throat and taught me to crave it? No. You’re not going to say anything. Because I’m nobody, and no one cares what I do. But they’ll care what you do. Even if it’s just a whisper, remember? You can’t risk your reputation on the possibility that people might know we’ve been together.” Bucky grinned and it was a horrible, ugly thing. “You should go now.”

Pierce was breathing hard, and Tony almost expected something melodramatic like a declaration that Bucky would rue the day, but in the end, Pierce just turned on his heel and strode off.

The door banged closed behind him.

Tony hesitated, then put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “That was amazing.” He said it softly, and it meant _are you okay?_ It meant _I’m so proud of you._ It meant _I love you_.

“Oh, _my god_ ,” Bucky’s voice came out in a panicked, high pitched screech. “What… what…” He was trembling like a leaf and he sank, slowly, to his knees, like every last bit of his strength had been spent telling Pierce to leave. “Oh, my god, oh god, oh, fucking hell…”

Tony wasn’t sure who was more astonished, Bucky, or himself, when Bucky suddenly burst into tears.

“Hey,” Tony said. He knelt in front of Bucky and took Bucky’s hand between both of his, pressing firmly. “Hey, honey, I’m here. Can you look at me?”

“Oh my Christ,” Bucky swore again, staring at his hand, at Tony’s hands. “Tony, what… did… oh, god, I can’t stop shaking.” He managed to lift his chin enough for meet Tony’s eyes for less than a second before dropping his gaze again, utterly defeated, completely mortified.

“Of course you can’t. Adrenaline dump is a bitch,” Tony said. Plus the panic attack, of course, but mentioning it wouldn’t help matters. “Hey. Tell me something you can see. Anything.”

“Uh… you have a hole in your jeans,” Bucky said. “Right under the pocket.”

“Huh, so I do. What can you hear?”

“Air conditioner,” Bucky said. “Surf, outside. S’not loud. Low tide.”

“You can tell where the tide is by sound? Wow, okay. Okay. What can you smell, then?”

“ _Blood_. Oh, my god, he fucking hit me,” Bucky squeaked, sounding incredulous. “You saw that, right, he… oh my god.” Bucky tugged his hand free and touched his fingers to his cheek. “The hell? Oh my god.”

“Hey, focus, here, okay. I saw it, it was real. It happened, and I’m right here. I wish I could have stopped it.”

“I’m okay,” Bucky said, dazed. “I mean… I _ain’t_ … but. Been hit worse’n this, but… that was… you know. _Fights_. Not… Alex. Jesus, that…”  

“I know,” Tony said. “It was a shock. It’s okay, honey.”

“All right, okay,” Bucky said, drawing in a few deep breaths. “That happened, it sucked. It’s over. Okay. I’m okay. I am.” He told Tony this in all seriousness, and Tony wondered, exactly, who Bucky was trying to convince.

“Of course you are,” Tony said. “C’mon, let’s go get a cup of coffee or something. And some ice for your face.” He stood and offered Bucky a hand up.

“Yeah, okay. And… uh, I think we should take the Vaughns’ offer,” he told Tony, like this still mattered, like the whole world hadn’t just been turned upside down. “But uh, let’s tell MJ to nudge them on the price. Ellis’ offer’s pretty attractive. If they can cover th’ closing costs, we’ll do that, okay?”

“Okay,” Tony said, because Bucky was still saying _we_ like he didn’t even realize he was doing it, and Tony wasn’t strong enough to point that out, and what else was he supposed to say? “We’ll call MJ first thing tomorrow.”


	16. Chapter 16

It had been gradual and it had been sudden. He’d known it and he’d pretended he didn’t.

And now that Bucky Barnes was ready to -- _maybe_ \-- admit that he was in love with Tony Stark (or, he thought he might be. He was pretty sure.) he had… absolutely no fucking idea how to go about it.

Don’t say it during sex, he told himself. No one believes that shit when they’re balls deep.

And then he kept trying to work the conversation around to it, but Tony was… either psychic and really didn’t _want_ Bucky to say it, or he was trying to make sure Bucky didn’t feel like he _ought_ to say it. Or something. Because the few times Bucky thought they might be headed in the direction of talking it out, Tony would crack a joke, or turn the conversation into something lewd and suggestive. (See problem number one, no declarations during sex.)

Bucky considered the idea of something declarative and romantic. Taking Tony up to the tree, or something, for a picnic. Sweet, and romantic, and they could neck for a little while, but they’d be out in public and actual sex was off the table, and Bucky could bring the conversation around.

Jesus, no, that was like some sort of fucking romcom and… just. No.

And no, like, mixed CDs or boomboxes outside of the window. Nothing like that. Tony would laugh himself sick, and then tell Bucky that he was going to go find a better sex partner. Like Thor, who never got attached to anyone.

That thought was enough to make Bucky see red behind his eyelids and clench his fists, and the hell even, he was making himself jealous by _imagining_ Tony going off to have sex with someone else? Really?

If that didn’t prove that Bucky was in love, Bucky wasn’t sure what did. Love wasn’t… provable, though. And the fact that Bucky kept wanting some sort of evidence made him wonder if he really was, and he’d go around in circles about that for a while, before he’d end up distracting himself by kissing Tony until the man forgot how to talk. That was awesome, really.

Bucky made a half-strangled screaming noise, crumpled up the junk mail he wasn’t actually looking at, and threw it at the door.

So of course Tony opened the door to walk in at that exact second. And of course the balled up flier hit him right in the face.

“Wow. I can come back later, or...?”

“Sorry, sorry, no, that wasn’t… directed at you,” Bucky said, hastily. “That was completely an accident. I was just… frustrated.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Tony said, “what with it already being airborne before I even got the door open.” He bent to scoop up the trash and dropped it in the recycling bin. “Anything I can help with?”

“Yes, probably,” Bucky said without even thinking. “Sit down, yeah. We… we should--” _Oh, jesus, Barnes don’t say we should talk, that’s like the worst thing you can say. Oh, fuck. You already said it, you idiot._ “I… uh. I need some information, before proceeding.”

Wow, that sounded formal as shit. Bucky thought he’d give his left arm for a time machine, go back and relive the last few minutes with slightly less idiocy.

Tony’s eyebrows went way, _way_ up, but he sat in the chair across the desk from Bucky. “What kind of information?”

Bucky swallowed. “I uh… well, the Vaughns want ten business days to consider our counteroffer. So, we’re gettin’ real close to the wire, an’... well, you said, once the work was done, an’ God knows, what I’m gonna get into with Steve, probably, I can’t guarantee shit there.” Bucky took a deep breath. “Are you… what’s your plan, Tony?”

Tony took a breath and held it for a moment. “Oh. Okay, we’re doing this. Uh. I. Kind of like it here, so I thought, now I’ve got ID and stuff again... I might stay in the area. Maybe see if I can find a job with a repair shop, or...” He looked down at his hands. “That’s about as far as I’d thought.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, trying to look through the curtain of Tony’s hair, like he thought maybe he could read Tony’s mind or something. It wasn’t a very successful attempt. “So, uh, I have something for you, and… then I want to put some options on the table.” He pushed the envelope across the desk.

Tony took it like he was expecting it to bite him. “What’s...” He lifted the flap, and pulled out the check inside it. “Wh... This is too much.”

“No, it ain’t. I can show you the bids I got, if you want to look at them. And it’s minus costs for materials, an’ rent at the apartment. I just… you deserve to have choices, Tony. That’s… you know how much those improvements of yours brought up the value of this place? You know how much money your advice, your caring, your… everything. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be neck deep in it with Alex right now and we both know it. You earned every bit of that. And I want you to have it. So you don’t feel like you owe me anything.”

Tony glanced up at him, frowning. “Why would I owe you-- I mean, I _do_. You’ve given me so much already. But there’s no repaying that.”

“You deserve to have choices,” Bucky repeated. “I don’t want you to say yes because you’re scared, or because you don’t have anyplace else to go. That… that gives you a little bit of breathing room, if you need it. To find work, or a place, or whatever you want to do. It’s not much, six months, maybe, if you’re frugal, but you’re smart. I bet you don’t need that much.”

Bucky took a deep breath. “But this question… it’s kinda a two parter. Bear with me, I ain’t so good at this. I… uh. What I’d like, what I’m gonna offer here… MJ’s been looking for a couple of properties for me, contingent on the sale. I’d like you t’ come out an’ look with me, give me your input. Because. I’d like for you to come with me. My… uh, my plan. Is to get a house up to Virginia Beach, and Steve’s got a bit of capital he can invest. An’... we’re gonna try this bakery idea. I’d… uh. Like you to join us on that. You know? And… move in with me. I mean, you know… in the house. Like… as in my boyfriend, if you know, that’s something you wanted.”

Tony was staring at him. “I’m. I’m sorry, I thought you were about to cut me loose. I need a second, here, I’m... Your _boyfriend_? Really?”

“I… er… yes?” Wow, that did not sound good at all, like Tony hadn’t even thought about it? _Jesus, Barnes._

Tony laughed, sounding somewhat hysterical. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m not-- It’s just. I’ve been spending _weeks_ trying to... To figure out how to let you go. And now you’re just... making my wildest dreams come true, like that?” He laughed again, and rubbed his hand over his face. “Am I asleep? Is this real?”

“You need t’ work on your dreams, Tony,” Bucky told him, very seriously. “Do you even know how many startup businesses fail in the first year? I ain’t offering much of anything, aside from a lot of hard work an’... an’, well. Me.”

“You’re all I want,” Tony said. “You’re more than-- You’re a hell of a prize, Bucky. You’re...”

“I… not that… is there ever a good way to do this, because fuck if I know how to--” Bucky took a couple of deep breaths, trying to settle himself and that goddamn flutter was back with a vengeance. “I think I mighta… pretty sure, really. I uh… I love you.” Bucky wanted to facepalm, or bang his head on the desk, because wow, that was so, so awful. He wouldn’t blame Tony if the man burst into impossible laughter and ran shrieking from the room.

“You are not allowed to mock Steve’s lack of smooth for at least six months,” Tony said, but he was smiling. “You’re lucky I’ve already been in love with you for weeks.”

“Do I get time already served on that, because really… Steve deserves mockery,” Bucky said. “So… uh. You do? I mean, you are? Was that a yes, because I don’t know that I heard that.”

“Oh my god,” Tony said. He got up and came around to Bucky’s side of the desk and folded down onto Bucky’s lap. “Yes. Yes, I love you. Yes, I will be your boyfriend. Yes, I will move in with you. Yes, and yes, and yes.”

“Oh, thank Christ,” Bucky said, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist. “I take back everything I ever said about Steve’s lack of smooth. Damn, this is so hard, when you… when it matters. When you matter, so _goddamn much_ to me.”

Tony’s hands slid around the back of Bucky’s neck, fingers twining through his hair. “Thank god for that.” And then his boyfriend leaned in to kiss him.

***

Bucky groaned, sounding horribly pathetic. When Tony tiptoed around the stacks of boxes and wove his way through furniture that wasn’t yet in its proper spots, he found his boyfriend laying on the floor in their new condo. “This bakery better be a damn success,” Bucky moaned, “because I ain’t never fucking moving all this shit again.”

“Yeah, there’s a silver lining to being homeless,” Tony said, smirking. “Do you need to take a break, honey?”

Bucky whimpered. “We need t’ get the bed set up, at least, and find m’damn clothes. And then, the rest of this shit can just wait.”

The condo -- MJ was a godsend, really -- was, in fact, smaller than Bucky’s place above Dockside had been, but since there weren’t rooms filled with his family’s old crap, it certainly felt bigger. It was light and airy inside with boring white walls, but light pine hardwood floors and a good view of the inlet from their second floor balcony. Tony wasn’t sure it was home, just yet, but his name was on the damn mortgage, which was shocking and amazing and unnerving all at the same time.

He had tried to argue -- the whole loan was resting on Bucky’s credit, because Tony hadn’t made a single financial transaction of his own in more than five years -- but Bucky hadn’t been willing to take no for an answer. “This’s th’ best way for you to _get_ your credit rating up again,” he’d said, and that had been hard to argue with.

Tony wandered through their -- _their_ \-- house until he found a box that had _clothes_ scrawled on it in sharpie. He picked it up and hauled it back to the bedroom, where Bucky had managed to get off the floor and start laying out the pieces of the bed. “Here, clothes,” Tony said, dropping the box next to the door that led to the en suite bathroom. “You want a hand with the bed, or should I go find the towels so we can have a shower as soon as we’re done here?”

“Oh, _shower_ , magic fuckin’ word,” Bucky said. “The hell is the bag of parts?” He lifted the various pieces of the bed and finally found the baggie of hardware strapped to one of the support struts with packing tape. It had been a busy couple of weeks, between getting the retail store set up -- grand opening in less than a week! -- and moving the twins into Virginia Beach last weekend.

Yesterday, Steve and Bucky had lowered Dockside’s handpainted sign to the ground and posed with it for a few pictures. Both of them had cried. The sign was the very first thing Bucky had put up when they got to the condo; it had a place of honor over their gas fireplace and pretty much dominated the living room. Somewhere, in some of the boxes, were other bits and pieces from the restaurant that would find a new home -- like the entire collection of photos of the staff and regular customers -- but most of it had stayed with the place when it sold.

Someone had packed the towels and bedsheets in the same box, which was fantastic foresight. Tony was laying his money on Natalia; she had been _scarily_ efficient through the entire process, keeping Steve moving even when he wanted to stop and brood over Dockside’s end.

Tony had tried to do the same for Bucky, but it was hard. Tony had never really known Dockside as a functioning, _living_ business, so he had trouble sympathizing with Bucky for its ending. Bucky was occasionally acting like it was a death in the family, and while Tony could understand it intellectually, he couldn’t quite grasp it emotionally. If his father had gone out of business, Tony probably would have danced on the rooftop.

Of course, Tony’s relationship with Howard wasn’t anything like Bucky’s relationship with his Ma.

Tony brought the box of linens back to the bedroom to find Bucky had managed to mostly finish assembling the base frame for the bed. “Found sheets for the bed, too,” he said. “Finish this, we can take a shower and then collapse for a while, yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna check Wanda’s Facebook thing? See what the attendance looks like?” Bucky asked. He heaved the mattress onto the frame, straightened it out. The instant the bed was in place -- seriously, the damn mutt was some sort of psychic -- Lucky was up the stairs, over the boxes and fwomp! Curled up on the bed, in the exact middle, looking like Bucky was trying to take away his birthday for wanting to put sheets on the bed.

Wanda had discovered her calling; no longer having to wait on customers, she’d turned into Pie in the Sky’s media person, setting up a business page and Facebook account and getting them linked into the Groupon system. She’d used her bonus money from Dockside’s sale to buy a fancy camera and was constantly going around taking pictures of everything and everyone while they got ready.

Steve had ended up making so many treats and pies and cakes just so Wanda could photograph them, Tony wasn’t sure he ever wanted to eat dessert again, a resolution that would probably only last a day and a half. If that.

“Yeah, sure.” Tony pulled out his new cell phone and flicked through the screens to the Facebook page. “Jesus, another plate of decorated cookies? I don’t remember seeing these before.” He turned the phone around so Bucky could see the picture. “Grand opening event looks like we’re up to almost two hundred people saying they’re coming. Lots of them won’t show, of course, but we’re getting some good momentum going on the reblogs.” He flipped through the pictures that Wanda had apparently uploaded while he and Bucky had been moving the last of their stuff.

There was a nice shot of the front of the location, now that they’d gotten their sign hung, with the reflection of sunset colors on the windows. Tony wondered how she’d managed to get the angle right for _that_. Some indoor shots of them setting up: Bucky installing the new cash register, Tony and Steve laying down the countertop, another of Steve standing by his gleaming new industrial mixer in the kitchen. A shot of Tony laying down the tile floor in the front, glancing up to throw a thumbs-up at the camera. Bucky sampling one of Steve’s cookies while Steve looked on proudly. Everything was tagged and labeled to hell and back -- names, products, a shout-out to the local hardware store that had given them a neighbor’s discount, and of course, the bakery’s name in every post, along with the grand opening information.

“Oh, I like this one,” Tony said, showing Bucky a shot of Lucky sitting up to beg for a treat.

“Yeah, Sam was talkin’ about mixing up handmade dog treats, too, for sale. People do love their pets,” Bucky said, chasing the dog off the bed _again_ , as Lucky wormed up under the comforter. “An’ Wanda’s coffee… bein’ right there in the middle of the business park, it’ll be good, right? We’ll be good. It’ll be just fine.” There went Bucky, worrying again. Tony wondered, sometimes, how the man ever got any rest, frantic as he was to make sure that everyone was taken care of. Most businessmen, Tony knew, wouldn’t have bothered to try to take old employees with them, or given bonuses to everyone who’d stuck around to the end. Hell, he’d helped the twins pack and move, which included transplanting about two dozen of Wanda’s prize flowers and bushes from her surprisingly ornate little garden.

“We’re going to be fine,” Tony promised. “We’re all going to be fine. Promise.” He caught Bucky’s chin in his hand and leaned in for a kiss. “Stop worrying. At least until after the Grand Opening.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, agreeing probably more to the kiss than a cessation of worry. “Yeah, it’ll be great. Pie in the Sky. Whatever you want, you can have it. Genius. Seriously, Tony, baby, I don’t know what I did without you. You are a gift.” He nuzzled at Tony’s mouth, and then shoved at the dog again, who thought kissing was _great_ and that he really should be a part of it.

“Come on, shower, then nap, then we can figure out what th’ hell we want to do for dinner, yeah?”

It sounded horribly domestic. Tony loved it. “Yeah, honey, that sounds great.” Anyway, probably Bucky wouldn’t be able to worry too much while Tony was blowing him in the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's ABOUT TIME, you idiots.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for physical assault, Bucky freaking out, some massive self-doubt and Bucky in a really bad head space. 
> 
> Conversations include straddling the line between abusive and non-abuse.  
> As always, you know your own mental state and feel free to hit us up for more details on Tumblr.

The grand opening had been a pretty decent success, and in the weeks that followed, Pie in the Sky had enjoyed a steady stream of customers. It remained to be seen whether that would keep up as curious visitors turned into regulars, but Steve had added a line of hot savory pastries for the business lunch crowd, and they were working up specials that would get people hooked on the variety of cookies and cupcakes. Tony thought they might just make a decent run of things.

Unlike the human staff, Lucky wasn’t adjusting well to the move. He’d gotten used to the freedom to run along the beach, and he chafed now at the restriction of the condo. In order to keep him from causing damage -- he’d ripped up the comforter and chewed up two legs of the coffee table their first week -- Bucky and Tony took turns running home occasionally during the day to take him out for a walk.

It was Tony’s turn. The shop was supposed to be closed, but one of the nearby corporate offices had placed a huge order for an assortment of cookies and other treats for some big luncheon meeting the next day, so Steve and Bucky were both staying late to get that finished and ready to go. So it was up to Tony to head back to rescue the condo from the dog.

The walk had gotten to be almost automatic, two blocks east and five blocks south, inasmuch as blocks existed in this town. Now that he no longer had to watch his path as closely, Tony texted as he walked. He shot Wanda a text with tomorrow’s special, so she could post it to their assorted social media. Then he went back to arguing with Bucky about stupid Who Would Win battles.

_WWW: new spock vs old uruha. dance battle._

New text from Bucky:  
_Uhura. ZQ has dat ass, but white boy dance skillz. As Seen on Ellen.  
WWW: GI Joe vs Stormtroopers?_

_GI Joe, strmtrooprs cant hit anything!  
WWW: Flash vs Cyborg?_

New text from Bucky:  
_Cyborg. Bry Alns too nice t fight him. Booyah!  
WWW: Flash Gordon vs Buck Rogers?_

_omg u r a nerd. Flash grdn wins bc ur not allowed 2 marry steve lol  
WWW: leia or ben kenobi?_

Tony absently made the turn from the business street. The first block was mostly an empty lot, where the local kids sometimes hung out, and was covered with fast food wrappers and empty beer bottles. There was a low hanging chain that kept cars from using it as parking lot, and a sad, semi-deflated soccer ball rolled in the evening breeze to bang against the chain link fence.

A crazy spill of headlights crossed Tony’s line of sight: an early drunk, maybe, who rolled up on the sidewalk and was not slowing down _at all._

“Shit!” Tony scampered to one side, and then the other as the car swerved toward him. “Watch where you’re going, asshole!”

The car barely avoided scraping the few metal posts that held up the chain, but stopped there. It was a silvery colored Chevy Impala, a sport-y car, rather than a sports car. There was a faint runkle above the driver’s side tire, not noticeable most of the time, that had come… from where _Tony had fixed it,_ after Ty had been clipped by a taxi and decided to spend the money on a new suit, and harrassed Tony into fixing the dent with boiling water and a toilet plunger.

The car door opened and Tony didn’t even need the backlight of the car’s interior. He’d know that silhouette anywhere. “Hello, Tony. You’re looking well.”

Tony backed up a step, his insides suddenly coated in ice. “Ty. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Aw, sweetmeat,” Ty said. “I have been so _worried_. You just vanished without a word. You didn’t even give notice at the garage. You were _gone_ , and no one knew where. You could have been kidnapped, killed, _anything_ could have happened to you.”

“Well, you can see I’m fine,” Tony said. “So you can just go back to New York now.”

“Tony, Tony, Tony,” Ty said, shaking his head like Tony was a misbehaving kindergartener, someone you had to talk slowly to, so that they’d understand. “I know, I know, you’re mad at me. I… I overreacted. But that was no reason to run away. We could have talked it over. I even made reservations at Daniel’s. I know how much you love French cuisine. And I come home, and you’re gone? Honey, I thought I was going to die from worry.”

“Whenever we ‘talk things over’, it somehow ends up that I owe you,” Tony said tightly. “You did a lot more than just hit me. We’re _done_ , Ty. I thought my disappearing act would have sent that message already.” Tony’s phone buzzed fitfully from the sidewalk. When had he dropped it? A brief flicker of the screen and it went dark again.

“You’re being unreasonable,” Ty said. “I mean, really, _Virginia_? Come on, honey, this isn’t where you belong. You just come on home, everything’ll be fine. We’ll work it out, I promise. I don’t… I never meant to hurt you, you know that. You’re my Tony, I take care of you. You know you need looking after, baby.”

“I know I’ve been looking after myself just fine, here,” Tony said, shoving away the niggling thought that Ty might be right. Tony hadn’t been doing so well until Bucky had taken him in, after all. _No_. That wasn’t the same. He and Bucky helped _each other_.

“Tony.” Ty’s face hardened. “Look, I even went to your father, to see if you’d gone home. He wasn’t happy that you’d run off _again_. Come on home, we’ll go talk to him, smooth everything over. Make it okay.”

Tony froze. “You talked to my _dad_? Ty, what the fuck? You-- Jesus Christ, why the _hell_ would I go back there?”

“I didn’t think you’d be foolish enough not to go _somewhere_. No money, no ID, no _nothing_. How did you even eat, baby? On your knees at truck-stops? I didn’t know what _happened to you_ , Tony. I was terrified.” Ty took a few steps closer, hand out, like he was trying to tempt a stray and possibly hostile dog.

Tony backed away again, and bumped into the fencepost. “Nice,” he said. “I’m glad to know you think I’d turn to prostitution immediately. How the hell did you even _find_ me?”

“You’re not as clever as you think you are,” Ty told him. “You don’t want to be found, you don’t plaster your picture all over Facebook. You think I wouldn’t see it? That your father wouldn’t have been informed immediately, where his son was? Pie in the Sky bakery? Really, Tony? That’s quite a fall.”

“It’s as honest a living as being a mechanic,” Tony shot back. “Did my father send you here? Have you turned into one of his lackeys, now?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Ty said. “I’m tired of arguing, Tony. It’s been a long drive. Get in the car. We’re going home.”

“No,” Tony said. “Go home yourself. I’ve _got_ a home here, and it’s not with you.”

“What did you say?” Ty took another few steps and his fingers wrapped tight around Tony’s upper arm, fingertips digging into his bicep. “Get in the car!”

“I said _no_ , Ty!” Tony tried to yank his arm free, but Ty had always been strong. “Just... fuck off!”

The expression on Ty’s face was like a parent with a child throwing a tantrum, exasperated, angry, fond, but no compromise anywhere in those golden, handsome features. “You are going to come voluntarily, or I will drag you. You know I don’t want to hurt you, baby, I never want to do that. I don’t know why you have to make me.” Ty yanked and Tony fell to his knees in the abandoned lot, the pavement ripping through his jeans with a sizzle of pain, scraping off the skin on the palm of his free hand.

Tony grabbed for the fence post, wrapping his free arm around it. “I don’t belong to you, asshole.”

“The hell you don’t,” Ty yelled, yanking at Tony’s arm. “I have put time and effort and _money_ into taking care of you, you ungrateful little shit. I have taken care of you when you can’t hold down a damn job, put food on the table, a roof over your head. This is the thanks I get? No. No, Tony, I don’t think so.” Ty pried his fingers off the post and threw him against the side of the car.

Tony’s breath huffed out of him, but he kicked back in desperation, only to have Ty catch his leg and twist painfully. He fell to the sidewalk again with a yell. “Son of a bitch!”

“Get in the car, Tony,” Ty told him, standing over him, breathing harder, his knuckles skinned and bleeding. “I’m not going to tell you again.”

“Or what,” Tony spat. “You’ll hit me again?”

Tony’s phone buzzed again, from the sidewalk. There was nowhere to go; he couldn’t possibly squirm under the car fast enough to reach the other side before Ty dragged him out again.

“Baby, I don’t want it to be this way,” and why was it that Ty sounded so kind, so concerned? “Look, I promise, everything will be okay. I don’t want to hurt you, honey. I’m not like your father. But you need to come home, I need you to come home. Everything will work out, you know it will. I’ll make this all up to you, all of it, it’ll just be a bad memory.”

Tony knew this routine, what was going to happen. Defiance was always answered with pain, pain until Tony was sobbing, breathless, unable to move from it. His father’s hand on his arm and the agony of a broken bone. The stabbing ache of being thrown into a set of metal file cabinets and later hobbling out of bed to sneak sips of whiskey to dull the pain. Ty’s fist drew back again.

Giving in would be so easy, but Tony had too much to lose, now. A life. A lover who loved _him_ , and not the status he brought. Tony kept his jaw loose -- he’d learned that the hard way -- but stared up at Ty, waiting for him to move. If he was lucky, he’d be able to dodge it. Make Ty bruise those bloody knuckles on the door of the car.

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you, Tony?”

A crunch of gravel and a shift in the shadows, behind Ty. “‘Scuse me,” a familiar voice, flat with anger, said. It was automatic, Ty turned, shifted his body away, and--

Ty went sprawling to the pavement as Bucky decked him, full force, his entire body moving to put power behind the swing.

“Tony?” Bucky’s voice cracked, anxious. “You okay?”

Tony used the car to drag himself upright and put some more distance between himself and Ty. “No,” he said in a voice that was probably shaking. “I am absolutely not okay. You--” He dragged his eyes away from Ty to look at Bucky. “I thought...” He stumbled toward Bucky, giving Ty a wide berth. “Oh god, honey...”

Ty groaned and attempted to get to his feet. “I will have your skin for that,” he threatened.

Bucky took one look at Tony’s face -- god only knew what he saw there -- and moved. Tony had never seen anyone move so fast in his life. He almost carelessly blocked a swing at his face, grabbed Ty’s wrist and… did something. Tony didn’t even know what, but he twisted, and Ty ended up back on the ground, face pressed into the pavement, while Bucky held on to his wrist, keeping his arm bent at an uncomfortable angle, knee coming down in the middle of Ty’s spine.

“You prolly don’t want to struggle too much,” Bucky told Ty. “It takes eight pounds of pressure to break bones, and just a little bit of leverage. I might slip.”

“Get off me, you son of a bitch!” Ty wasn’t listening, but when Bucky bent his thumb again, Ty screamed.

“How’s it feel, hmm? Bein’ scared, an’ hurt, an’ down on your face in a dirty lot?” Bucky relaxed his hold a little, let Ty breathe. “Honey, your phone’s over on the sidewalk, there. You wanna call someone? Ambulance. Cops. Something?”

It took Tony a couple of tries to pick up his phone in shaking hands and unlock it. “He going to need an ambulance?”

“I’d rather not hurt him if I don’t have to,” Bucky said, shaking his head in disgust. “Honestly, I’d almost like to, makin’ me put his words in my mouth. God damn it.”

Tony managed to open the phone app and dial 911. “I need the police,” he told the operator. “My ex just assaulted me and tried to kidnap me.”

***

Even after the police had taken their statements and driven away with a still-furious Ty in the back of the patrol car, it took a while for Tony’s shakes to stop.

“Tony,” Bucky said, hesitantly. It was weird, still sitting in the dirty, abandoned lot. The lady cop who’d taken Tony’s statement had said they would send a tow truck for Ty’s car and take it to impound. And there were still three blocks to go, to get home.  “Tony, honey, do I need to take you to the doctor?” He’d asked that before and gotten brushed off.

“I’ll be okay,” Tony said, just like before. And then he finally looked directly at Bucky and started at whatever he saw there. “No, I will,” he added, with somewhat more life. “It’s, uh, mostly just bruises and scrapes. Might’ve twisted my knee a little.”

“Can you walk? I don’t… I don’t want to leave you here t’ get the truck.” He touched Tony’s shoulder, gently, ready to draw back at the slightest wince or flinch. “I can… I can probably call Steve, get him to go get the truck? Baby, just…” Bucky shut his mouth. He was damn well babbling, frantic with worry.

Tony had just stopped responding to his texts and the silence had been weird. Tony never just stopped texting, and the more Bucky thought about the ex, the man who’d almost fucking _kidnapped_ his boyfriend, the more horrific that habit was. Tony _always_ signed off on a text conversation. Now Bucky didn’t have to wonder why, but it made him feel… queasy.

“I don’t... I don’t know,” Tony admitted. “Help me stand up; let’s see.” He grabbed for Bucky’s arm and started shuffling around.

“I got you,” Bucky told him, sliding an arm around Tony’s waist and letting him lean off the injured knee. He could do this, he could get Tony home, and then… “You got everything? Phone an’ keys and stuff?”

Tony nodded, leaning into Bucky’s side. He hissed a little as he limped on the his hurt knee. “Can’t tell if it’s just twisted or if it’s strained,” he said, a little distractedly. “Not sprained or it’d already be blowing up like a balloon.”

“Okay, it’s not too far,” Bucky said, encouragingly. “I… uh. That was your ex, huh?” Inane conversation starter, really, but… Jesus, Bucky wasn’t sure if he wished he’d known about this earlier, or if he’d wished that he never knew anything about it at all. Tony had said running away with his ex was a mistake, but he didn’t know, Bucky _hadn’t known_.

Tony sighed. “Yeah. He’s a real charmer when he wants to be. Guess he didn’t really want it, tonight.” His arm tightened around Bucky’s waist. “I never thought he’d try to find me and bring me back. Jesus, he even went to my--” Tony stumbled over a step. “Fuck. He went to my father. If Dad knows where I am... I don’t know what he’ll do. Maybe nothing. Maybe I’m still disinherited and he doesn’t care. Oh, god.”

“What can he do?” Bucky wondered. “You’re an adult. You don’t have to do anything he says, right?” Bucky wanted to pet Tony’s hair and reassure him that everything was going to be fine, but… obviously, just driving by and snatching Tony off the fucking street wasn’t out of the goddamn question, even though it _should be._

“He could... I don’t know,” Tony admitted. “I, uh. Should probably tell you some things. I wasn’t trying to hide anything, I just didn’t think it mattered, except now it might. Or it might not. I don’t...” He swallowed. “You, um, you know Stark Industries?”

“Weapons company,” Bucky said, promptly. “Like Lockheed Martin. They do a lot of contracting in this area. Biggest naval shipyard in the world.” Then. “Oh. _Oh, my god_.” It was all he could do not to thrust Tony away from him, just to get a look at his face, to see… Howard Stark, the founder, had done a damn high school graduation spiel in the area a few years back. His picture’d been in the papers.

Tony took and let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. My dad’s Howard Stark. He’s. He’s a genius at business. He’s a shit dad. I ran away with Ty to get away from him. And Ty turned out to be a manipulative bastard. Tonight notwithstanding, he’d only ever hit me the once, but he was... controlling. Little like Pierce. Different methods, same results.”

“This--” Bucky jerked his chin at Tony, utterly horrified. “--this happened to you before?” His voice came out as a startled squeak. Howard. Stark. Jesus, that was a name right up there with Bill Gates and fucking Steve Jobs and… uh. “Yikes.”

“This isn’t really anything, by comparison. Dad broke bones, a few times. He had a hell of a temper when he was drinking, and I was too stubborn to know when to shut the hell up.” But Tony was shivering under Bucky’s arm. “Ty said he went to Dad. To see if I’d gone back there. I’m pretty sure Dad disinherited me when I ran off the first time, so I don’t know if he’d even care, but... He could bring some pressure, if he wanted.”

“Jesus,” Bucky said. He’d almost broken Ty’s arm. What the hell, even. “Tony… oh, Jesus. Baby, I don’t know what to say.” Everything sounded like something that would come out of an abuser’s mouth. _I didn’t want to hurt him. You know I’d never do that to you, right?_ He considered and discarded a whole plethora of phrases.  A fucking state judge had looked him in the face and called him a dangerous, unstable man. How the hell was Tony supposed to trust _him_? “Yeah,” he said, finally. “Yeah, we should talk. About… a lot of things, I s’pose. There’s… probably some stuff I ought t’ tell you, too.”

Tony nodded. “Let’s just... Get home. Want some ice on my knee, and I need to clean up. Walk the dog. And then we can curl up and talk all you want.”

“Yeah. _Home._ Tony, hey… I just… I want you to know, this shit, this don’t change anything. Okay, baby? I love you, and I want you to stay. You know, we’re partners, but… you have choices, you ought t’ have them, and that’s jus’ as true now as it was last month, okay?” Bucky didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t a white knight, he didn’t rescue the damsel, and he didn’t get to fucking keep Tony, just because Tony had needed to be saved. That wasn’t how any of this _goddamn worked_.

Tony leaned out just enough to look up at him with a tired smile. “Still choosing you,” he said. “Love you, too.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. “Okay. I just want you to be safe, Tony. Feel safe. This… damn, this was a fucking nightmare.” He checked the distance. “Not much further now. I’ll set you up in th’ den for tonight, if you think you can’t make the stairs.”

Tony nodded and leaned back into Bucky’s side. “See how it feels after I ice it,” he said, and sighed gustily. “Text Steve, or he’ll worry.”

“Yeah, soon’s we’re in th’ door. Come on, I gotcha. Little bit more.” Bucky dug into his pocket for his house keys and then, “--here, grab the porch rail a bit, so I can get the pizza dog under control. I don’t want him jumpin’ on you.”

But Lucky was uncharacteristically calm, snuffling at Tony’s fingers and whining a little, but not trying to knock him down or anything. “Good boy.”

Tony scratched Lucky’s ears. “Yeah, who’s a good boy?” He let Bucky help him into the house and settle him on the sofa with an ice pack. “Thanks, babe.”

Bucky grabbed a plastic bag and took Lucky for the Fastest Walk Ever. He texted Steve, and had to then actually call him to keep the man from coming over. Tony needed some time to process. He was hurt and scared and he didn’t need a living room full of pissed off Rogers on a full tirade rant to make things worse.

Bucky kept looking over his shoulder to make sure the condo door stayed closed and by the time Lucky had finished inspecting all the local foliage, done his business, and Bucky had scooped up the remains, he was breathing harder with remembered fear. What if Tony was _gone_?

Bucky wasn’t sure how he was supposed to ever function rationally again. Except… except trying to keep tabs on Tony out of fear was almost as bad as trying to keep tabs on him from some sort of jealous possession.

“I am getting you a spray canister of fucking mace,” Bucky announced, walking back in the door.

“Would’ve been helpful,” Tony agreed mildly. “Was thinking I might look into some self-defense classes, too.”

Bucky nodded. “Most of what I know’s from high school wrestling team. And draggin’ Steve’s sorry ass out of fights when we was kids.”

“It’s hard to imagine Steve ever needing help with a fight,” Tony said. Lucky scrambled up on the couch and dropped his head into Tony’s lap, begging to be petted.

Well, Bucky knew how that felt, wanting reassurances. He scooched one of the chairs over to Tony’s side of the sofa, so they could talk, so he could touch, and yet Tony wouldn’t feel smothered. Hopefully. “So, uh… I know this is a bad fuckin’ time for it, baby, but. Maybe you should know some things. I didn’t… I didn’t think they’d be important, but. Sometimes people talk an’ I don’t want a rumor to get back to you. Without you knowin’, okay? ‘Cause you can’t have missed it, what I just did. An’ the implications of it. I ain’t… I ain’t always a safe person t’ be around.”

Tony frowned. “You were defending me. It’s not like you went out of your head.”

“Ain’t the first time it’s happened,” Bucky said. “I… uh, broke a guy’s arm. A few years back. My… uh, my boyfriend, at the time. He was… he was hurting a kid I knew. The point is, Tony, I… I know violence, okay. I’ve been in fights. A lot of fights. An’... an’ there’s no way I can tell you not t’ be scared of me, that I would _never_ hurt you. Because I bet both your old man an’ your ex told you th’ same damn thing.”

Tony waggled one hand, _so-so_. “Dad never tried on that lie. But Ty, yeah. Ty _hated_ my dad for what happened, so I figured... I figured he was safe. I felt so safe, in fact, that I never really noticed that he had other ways of controlling me.” He prodded gently at his scraped-up palm. “You’ve never been like that,” Tony said. “I’m... a little gun-shy, now, so I’ve been watching. You don’t tell me what to do, you don’t try to control me. When I push back, you back off.”

“I did, though,” Bucky said, ruefully. Staring down at his knees. “You know why I came after you?”

Tony shook his head, watching Bucky with solemn eyes.

“You… you uh, stopped answering your texts. I… you don’t _do_ that,” Bucky said, trying to explain. “I… I poked at you again and you didn’t answer me. That’s like. Stalker 101, baby. And I can’t feel bad about it, because what the hell might have happened, but… Jesus, I shouldn’t be dumping this on you, after everything you just went through and I feel sick, Tony, I do. But you didn’t answer and I got scared, and I came to see if you were okay, if you’d… I don’t know. Fallen down a hole, or got hit by a car or somethin’.”

Tony’s face scrunched up. “I don’t know,” he said after a few minutes. “That’s... complicated. Where’s the line between reasonable worry and control? But it happened, and you said, _let’s get you a way to protect yourself_ instead of _you shouldn’t go anywhere without me_. I’m pretty sure that counts for something. If... If you’d caught up and it turned out I’d run into a friend and was just talking and distracted, what would you have done then?”

“Gone an’ got th’ dog, so you could chat. I dunno. Invited your friend back to the shop for coffee an’ a muffin? Called myself eight kinda idiot for frettin’,” Bucky said. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

“See?” Tony said. “I don’t know if you even realize it, when I push and test to make sure you’re not controlling me, but you’ve stepped back every single time. You want me to have _more_ choices, not fewer. That’s not an abuser. You think you’re a danger to me, then we’ll get that can of mace and I’ll keep it on my keychain, and you can rest assured I’ll use it if it ever looks like you’re going to hurt me like that. That make you feel better?”

Bucky shrugged. “Yes, an’ no. I don’t… I don’t think I’d hurt you, baby, not on purpose. I been wrong before, but… there were signs, with Brock. Stuff I ignored, until I came on him when he was…” Bucky swallowed, hard, hating thinking about that night. “He was sexually assaulting a kid. Thought… thought I’d want a turn, or somethin’. But, yeah. Like you. I look for it, now. There’s signs. I don’t think that’s who you are, so I don’t think you need to worry. I just. I don’t _want_ you to worry. I don’t want you t’ think you need to be scared of me, because you don’t. But it also ain’t my place to tell you that. You’re th’ most important person in my life, baby. An’ I want you to be happy, an’ safe.”

“Oh, that guy,” Tony mused. “Wanda told me a little about that guy. You ever catch me acting like that, I want you to knock my damn head off. I haven’t heard a story yet where you hit someone who didn’t deserve it. I’m not scared of you, honey. Stop trying to convince me.”

“Sorry,” Bucky said. He took a deep breath, held it, then let it out with a rush. “I was jus’ lookin’ down at him, at Ty, and we were sayin’ the same thing. It shook me up. _I don’t want to hurt him, but I will if I have to._ Made me feel sick inside.”

“Well, that’s the difference between you, then,” Tony pointed out. “Pretty sure he still has no idea what’s wrong with that thought. Thinks he’s perfectly entitled to hit someone who’s not doing what he told them to do.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. “Okay. I'm okay. Just, you know. Scared out of my damn mind. I love you so damn much, Tony. I don't know what I'd do. I'm so sorry he hurt you.”

“Me too,” Tony said, a touch sardonically. “Feel free to come over here and cuddle me any time now.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He shoved out of his chair and onto the floor near Tony’s feet, wrapping one hand around Tony’s ankle. “Ready to comply with that, baby. Really, I don’t know why you let me rattle on like that.” He dropped a kiss on Tony’s relatively unscathed knee, although both of them had been skinned and banged up. Just looking at it made Bucky wish he’d been just a little less restrained, but… no. It worked out. Tony was okay. Tony was right there, where he belonged. A little hurt, a little scared. But okay. It could have been so much worse.

Tony threaded his fingers through Bucky’s hair and tipped his head back against the couch with a heartfelt sigh. “That sucked. That sucked a lot.”

“I can’t believe he tried to freakin’ kidnap you. I mean, who does shit like that? What… did he just expect you to go with him?” Bucky scowled at the ceiling. Being angry was easier than being scared. “I am so, so glad that I care whether or not Conan can beat up Xena, or not.” He stroked Tony’s leg, fingers caressing his ankle under the cuff, reassuring himself that Tony was real and solid and safe.

“Me too, babe. Also, Xena wins that one, hands-down.”

“In your dreams, nerd-boy,” Bucky said. “Conan’s got a magic sword.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is half smut, so feel free to skip everything after the scene break. 
> 
> Also, look who's home and wondering where the HELL everything went??

When Tony limped into Pie in the Sky the next day, Wanda and Steve were solicitous. When he gave them an abbreviated version of the attack, Wanda nearly had a meltdown. “Oh my god!” She clapped both hands over her mouth. “I am so, so sorry, Tony. This is all my fault! I was the one posting all the pictures!”

“It’s not your fault,” Tony said, with an inward sigh. “It’s not like I told you I had a creepy stalker ex or anything. I didn’t _know_ I had a creepy stalker ex. I thought he would’ve gotten the message when I, y’know, _left_.”

Steve’s reaction, while still angry and scowling about it -- which was weirdly comforting and sweet -- was a little more helpful. He brought Tony a cup of coffee and a container of the shop’s new speciality: a brownie, frosting, oatmeal and fruit shoved in a mason jar and eaten with a spoon. Steve was calling it Breakfast Cake, and it sold out ridiculously fast for something that really should never have even been in the same _time zone_ with breakfast.

Bucky filled in the rest, about Howard and their concerns that Tony’s father might… put pressure on Tony to go back to New York.

Wanda sniffed. “Well, we’ll just see about _that_.” She stormed off to get her camera and came back, snapping pictures. “We’ll just do a piece. Every day. What is Tony up to? Social media can work for us, instead of against us. We won’t even try to hide who you are. _Son of weapons manufacturer, Howard Stark, Tony enjoys waging war on hunger and bland breakfast foods, instead._ It’ll be a thing. People will come to the website every day, just to see what you’re up to.”

“You know I’m not usually up to much of anything, right?” Tony pointed out. “I’m pretty dull, day to day.”

Bucky ran a hand through Tony’s hair. “No, you ain’t, doll. Not a bit borin’.”

“Also,” Wanda said, “super photogenic. Like. Like that marathon runner guy. It’ll be a meme.”

“I never did figure out what the hell a meme is,” Bucky complained.

Tony sighed and patted Bucky on the arm, fake-patronizing. “How can you be such a nerd, but not know what a meme is? I’ll show you tonight.” He glanced over at Wanda. “Putting me on the site more would definitely slow my dad down, that’s a good idea. And if it looks like he endorsed the place, it’ll play well with local military folks, probably. Which means he won’t want to attack the shop directly. Well done.”

“I am not a nerd,” Bucky denied. “You’re a nerd. Okay, you’re on it, Wanda. Make it happen. Probably ought to put together a list of… things you can do. Locally. For pictures.”

“While holding baked goods,” Tony added. “I’m going to get so fat, working here, my parents wouldn’t recognize me anyway.”

Bucky leaned down and licked the shell of Tony’s ear. “I’ll keep you trim,” he promised. “Work it off.”

“Mm, I’ll hold you to that,” Tony said, tipping his head back for a proper kiss.

“Better me than Steve. Crazy asshole runs like a five K every day and twice on Sunday," Tony was duly informed.

“Sex,” Steve said, a little primly, “does not burn nearly as many calories as people think. Not efficient for weight management.”

“Well,” Tony said thoughtfully, “I guess we’ll just have to have a _lot_ of it.”

“Stop corrupting Tony,” Wanda said. “He's sweet and innocent and I like him that way.”

Bucky spun around to stare at Wanda in sheer disbelief. “Excuse me, but have you _met_ Tony? Jus’ the things that man can do with his _tongue--_ ”

“La la la! Not listening!”

Tony started laughing so hard he was in danger of falling over. He pulled Bucky to him and grinned at Wanda. “As far as you -- and our customers -- know, I am a precious cinnamon roll and the only thing Bucky and I do when we go home at night is cuddle. _You_ \--” He kissed Bucky’s cheek. “--know better.”

“I’m corruptin’ you,” Bucky harrumphed. “Like, there’s a notion. Nobody’s worried about my virtue, here.”

Steve scoffed. “That’s because you haven’t got any, Buck. It’s all right. I won’t tell on you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say he has no virtues,” Tony said with a smirk. “I find a lot of virtue in just how talented he is with his--”

Wanda squeaked and fled the main customer seating area for the kitchen, where she turned on the dishwasher. It probably only had a spatula and maybe a baking tray in there, but it was noisy enough from the kitchen to block out voices from the front.

Steve shook his head. “Yeah, okay. So, we scared Wanda away. Better zip it, before we get custom in, Buck.”

“I swear, I’m takin’ the shop to Pride this spring. We can do a float, an’ run a stand. It’ll be great,” Bucky said. “That’s somethin’ you can do, right? Design a parade float? I mean, you know all engineering and stuff, put some movable parts together?”

“Babe, _high school students_ manage to design parade floats. We’ll figure something out.”

“Great, good,” Bucky said. He clapped his hands together and went over to flip the sign on. “Let’s pretend we’re professionals, people.” He gave Tony another quick kiss and disappeared into his office.

“Professional whats, that’s the question,” Steve snarked. “You got register today, Tony, or you need some time off to recover? I can put the bell up.”

Steve hated that damn bell, the ones customers could slap to get his attention in the kitchen. Sometimes they didn’t have a choice, yet. Bucky had talked about getting some more staff, if customer yield kept up, but he didn’t want to bring anyone in yet and just have to let them go.

“Wanda and I can handle it,” Tony promised. “If the boss will let me sit on a stool or something while it’s slow.”

“It’ll be fine,” Steve said. He straightened his fancy chef’s hat which just made him look ridiculously taller, and headed into the back. Not but a few minutes passed before there was a short line at the till for coffee and muffins, and Tony was writing up delivery orders while Wanda kept the register moving.

One customer asked about Tony’s bandaged hands. “Always use oven mitts when you’re taking cookies out of the oven,” he lied, grateful that his shirt hid the bruises Ty had left on his arm.

When the mid-morning lull hit, Wanda went back into the office to get on her laptop and work her social media magic while Tony manned the front counter. A scruffy-looking guy with dirty-blonde hair pushed through the door, squinting several times at the signs and his phone. “Uh. I need to see the manager,” he said.

“He’s pretty busy right now,” Tony said. “I’m sure I can help you.”

“No, I don’t think you can,” the guy said. “I really, _really_ need to see Barnes.”

Tony suppressed a sigh. “I’ll see if he’s available.” He pushed off his stool and limped into the back to knock on the office door. “Customer wants to see the manager,” he said when Bucky and Wanda looked up from their respective screens.

“Mad?” Bucky asked, poking his keyboard without much enthusiasm.

“I don’t think so,” Tony said, “but he asked for you by name.”

“‘Kay,” he said. “Be there in a minute. Oh, and tell Steve I want to sample these beer and bacon cupcakes before he puts something that weird on the menu. I am not ordering this much bacon without some proof of concept.”

“Maybe a single batch this week and do customer samples, see how many are interested?” Tony suggested.

“Mmmmhmm. Thanks, doll,” Bucky said. He poked again, then shoved himself out of the chair. “Let’s see who wants to ruin m’ day.”

Bucky put one hand on Tony’s elbow to steady him, an automatic sort of solicitous gesture that was both sweet, a little bit annoying that it was necessary, and a hundred percent Tony’s southern gentleman boyfriend.

“So, how can I help you today, sir?” Bucky asked, before looking up.

“Bucky! Where is my apartment?” the customer demanded.

“Oh, my god,” Bucky said, mouth dropping open in shock. “Clint!” Bucky grabbed the man and pulled him into a rough embrace. “I didn’t know how to get in touch with you, you keep losing your damn phone! How the hell are you? Las Vegas was good? Lucky’s missed you!”

“Yeah, Vegas was great,” said Clint. “Bobbi made enough at the tables to keep us in dogfood for another six months, but then we came home and _where are my apartment and my dog, Barnes?_ ”

“Well, that’s a long story… but. Tony and I have a spare room, an’ as long as he’s okay with it, we can put you up. For a while. And look -- ROGERS! Get your…” Bucky looked around at the few soccer moms who were poring over the cupcake menu and abruptly changed his sentence. “Self. Get yourself out here. Look who’s home!”

Steve stuck his head out of the kitchen. “You bellowed?”

“Steve!” Clint beamed. “You two finally made up?!”

“Yeah, that’s all on Tony,” Steve said, gesturing. “He made Buck call me, and then he an’ Nat snickerdoodled everyone into getting along again. Good to see you. Hey! I have some taro cupcakes I was trying out. You should have one, they’re _purple_.”

“I’m in,” Clint declared, and then he squinted at Tony. “You’re Tony?” he asked, and extended a hand. “Great. Am I supposed to remember you?”

“This is Tony,” Bucky said, putting an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “My boyfriend. Tony, this is Clint Barton. The guy who rescued Lucky from the circus, gambler, troublemaker, and good friend. He used to rent out the garage apartment. He an’ Bobbi, that’s his girlfriend, Bobbi Morse, they went to Vegas for a poker tournament just before we started getting Dockside ready to sell.”

“Sell?!” Clint exclaimed. “That’s a hell of a story, Buck!”

“Yeah, it is,” Bucky said. “But I think this is going well. If you, or Bobbi need some part time work, we’ve got openings. I was gonna wait an’ hire if things keep up, so I didn’t have to let anyone go if it doesn’t stay busy, but right now, we’re hopping.”

Steve rang up the soccer moms, clapped Clint on the back and disappeared into the kitchens again to check on a custom birthday cake that was due to go out that evening.

“Might need a little work,” Clint allowed. “But I think you’re going to have to start at the beginning.”

***

They got Clint and Bobbi installed in the spare room -- and Tony had not realized that Lucky’s normal level of enthusiasm was _restrained_ until he saw the dog greet its actual owner -- and made their own way to bed.

Tony pulled Bucky close for a slow, heated kiss... and then Bucky rolled over to turn off the light.

“Really?” Tony said. “What is this, some kind of payback for when I didn’t want to bang you with Pierce’s bruises all over you? These aren’t even my doing!”

“Huh?” Bucky blinked. He turned the light back on. “What, Tony?”

Tony scooted into Bucky’s space on the bed. “That kiss was some of my best work, I’ll have you know. C’mon, don’t you wanna?”

“Oh, baby.” Bucky brushed his knuckles down Tony’s cheek. “You’re hurt, honey. What kinda fuckboi would I be, if I pounced on you right now?”

“I _started_ it,” Tony pointed out. “I mean, I’m probably not up for being on all fours tonight, but I’m not _that_ hurt. And I want you.” Bucky’s hand had come to rest on Tony’s shoulder, so Tony picked it up and sucked Bucky’s index finger into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it, scraping his teeth over the pad. “Yeah?”

Bucky shivered, eyes drawn to Tony’s mouth. “Always want you. All th’ time,” Bucky admitted. “Think I walk around half the time, thinkin’ about you. You’re… unbelievable.” Bucky’s mouth twitched, and he groaned, pulling his finger free from Tony’s mouth, stroking light across his bottom lip. “Love your mouth. It’s… you’re very talented.”

Tony grinned. “Yeah? Want a demonstration of some of the things I can do with my mouth?” He leaned in to lick around the shell of Bucky’s ear, then kissed down Bucky’s neck, pausing to lick and nip at the tender skin.

“Oh, twist my arm, why doncha?” Bucky offered one arm, willingly enough, and when Tony gripped his wrist to turn, he made a faux-wounded face. “That’s enough, I surrender!”

Tony laughed. “Dork. I love you.” As long as he had hold of Bucky’s arm, though... He mouthed at the inside of Bucky’s wrist, breathing hot over the pulse-point and tracing the veins there with his tongue. He worked his way upward, along the sensitive underside of Bucky’s arm.

“Takes one t’ know-- oh, Jesus,” Bucky gasped as Tony got the the inside of his elbow. “How t’ fuck does that feel so… goood?”

“Because I’m very talented,” Tony teased. He kissed his way the rest of the way up Bucky’s arm and started making his way down Bucky’s chest. It would be easier if he could push Bucky to lie flat, and then climb up on him, but Tony’s skinned knees and hands weren’t going to stand for that. Tony managed the best he could with them lying on their sides, instead, squirming downward every few minutes to explore new territory.

He already knew that Bucky’s nipples were sensitive, leading the man to gasp and cling to the sheets, but he also discovered a spot just at the curve of Bucky’s hip that had much the same reaction, until Bucky was all but writhing on the bed, thighs quivering with anticipation, every lick bringing a soft, whining sound from his throat. “Tony, Tony, oh, my god, your wicked mouth, I… Jesus!”

“I think you meant _divine_ , sweetheart,” Tony purred, scooting down a little further to taste the inside of Bucky’s thighs. That wasn’t _quite_ as responsive, but still got a nice reaction, especially when Tony ventured up high, close to Bucky’s balls and cock. “Hmm?”

“Yeah, honey, please, I… god, you make me crazy, I… Tony, c’mon!” Bucky’s voice went up again and he grabbed a pillow to muffle a couple of frustrated whines. From under the pillow’s edge, Tony could see the cords in Bucky’s throat, tight with need.

“Mm, but are you crazy _enough_?” Tony wondered idly. He flicked out his tongue, darting up Bucky’s cock and making it jump. “Got to make sure you get all the loving you deserve, honey.” Another quick lick. And another.

The pillow barely made a dent in the throaty scream that Bucky made as Tony licked him from root to tip and then slithered down further to explore the area behind his knee. “Oh, my god.” Bucky was shivering all over, his legs opening and closing restlessly. “Yeah, baby, you’re so sweet, even when you’re being a _goddamn tease_.”

“You like it,” Tony said fondly. He ducked down to lick behind Bucky’s knee, then sucked at the skin just above it. “Hmm, I wonder if I could give you a hickey right here? You’d feel that all day, wouldn’t you?” He scraped his teeth over the spot and gave it an exploratory suck.

Bucky’s hands came down on Tony’s head, raking through his hair until he was tugging at the curls near the nape of Tony’s neck. “Oh… that’s… yeah, okay, that…” Bucky hissed in a breath, quite obviously holding his leg still with a lot of effort, his teeth mangling his lower lip.

Tony hummed, pleased, and sucked a little harder, worrying the skin until it pulled up red and purple. He licked at it to soothe the initial ache of it, then resumed his slow, torturous path down over Bucky’s legs.

Bucky rubbed one leg over Tony’s back and shoulders, a little clumsy, but affectionate. He leaned up on one elbow to watch, sighing and sometimes whimpering as Tony explored a new area. When Tony made it all the way down, there was a sudden squeak and Bucky’s feet disappeared, tucked under the blankets. “Oh, no, no, _no_ , I don’t… get up here.”

“Are you ticklish?” Tony asked, laughing. “Okay, okay.” He scooted all the way back up to claim Bucky’s mouth in a long, heated kiss.

“There you are,” Bucky said, and then rolled Tony over gently, pressing down on him, rolling his whole body over Tony’s. “God, you’re so beautiful, I just can’t… how did I get so lucky?” He kissed Tony’s mouth, light and teasing, and then deeper, until he was thrusting his tongue in with some urgency, matching the motion of his hips as he stropped against Tony like a cat claiming territory.

Tony curled one arm around Bucky’s neck and let the other hand slide freely over all of Bucky’s skin that he could reach. “Mmm, just by being your wonderful self,” he said. He rolled his body up against Bucky’s, letting his own urgency build.

Bucky gave him a wicked smile. “Roll over, it’s my turn.”

“I don’t know if I can trust that look,” Tony said, but he rolled over, careful of his injuries, and pillowed his head on folded arms.

“You don’t trust me, baby?” Bucky sounded just a little too smug for comfort. “When all I wanna do is--” he dipped his head, ghosting a kiss between Tony’s shoulder blades “--kiss every inch of you?” He traced the line of Tony’s spine with his mouth, licking at each vertebra. Stroked a hand down Tony’s back to tease at the skin there, light, looping circles. Made his way down, an inch at a time, until he lavished attention on the triangle just at the base of Tony’s spine.

Tony arched up into the touch, sighing with mingled lust and contentment. “Mmm, you make me feel so good.”

“ _You_ feel good,” Bucky told him. He slithered a little lower and rubbed his cheek against Tony’s ass, the bit of evening shadow scraping against the sensitive skin there. He teased, snuggling and rubbing against Tony with his chin, cheek, and the other hand tickled and traced circles around the fleshy muscle. “You have got like, I swear, the world’s most perfect ass. I mean, honestly… I’ve never seen anything like it.” He squeezed, laughing lightly when Tony made an squawking, offended noise.

Tony wriggled his butt. “You going to do something about it, or just poke it?” he challenged.

“I thought you wanted me to poke it,” Bucky said. He ran a finger down Tony’s crack, light, exploratory. “Hmmm?”

Tony moaned and arched up into the touch. “Yes, please.”

Bucky ran both hands over Tony’s ass, cupping, stroking, then drew a circle with one finger, just under the cheek on the right side. “It’s like a peach, I swear,” Bucky said, then licked, right where he’d drawn the circle. Fastened his mouth there and sucked hard, a brilliant, stinging ache that throbbed when Bucky let go.

Tony hissed and squirmed, not sure whether he wanted to move into the ache or away from it. The sting turned into a sizzle of sparks that danced up his spine and made everything brighter. “Oh, god. Bucky...”

Bucky sat back on his heels, as if admiring the view, then poked the spot where his teeth had been, making a happy, humming sound as Tony twisted. “So pretty,” he informed Tony. “Hang on.” He almost smooshed Tony into the mattress, reaching across to rummage around in the bedside table. “No, not that one-- ah! Well, strawberry, but okay. I thought I had peach, oh well. Next time.”

He snicked open the cap and the room filled with the scent of strawberry flavoring. “I… uh, should probably ask,” he said. “I mean, some… are you okay with it, if I…” Tony caught a glimpse of his face and Bucky was blushing furiously again. “Lick. _There_?”

God, Tony loved it when Bucky blushed. He grinned and wriggled a little, spreading his legs wider. “Rimming is on the go-list, yes,” he said, repositioning his arms to pull a pillow closer. He didn’t usually worry about getting loud, but they had guests who probably didn’t want to hear him screaming.

Bucky might have been shy, he was easily flustered and talking about their sex life usually had him stammering and practically pulling his hair out at the base of his neck, but once they were in bed, and Bucky was actually doing things to him, he didn’t have much in the way of shame. Bucky poured a thin drizzle of strawberry flavored lube down Tony’s crack and then dove right in. Spread Tony’s cheeks wide and tasted. Long, slow strokes of his tongue, right over the opening, combined with quick, flickering kitten licks all the way around. He nosed even further, brushing over the base of Tony’s balls and the sensitive patch of skin right under them.

And dear _god_ , the sounds he was making, heavy groans and sweet little sighs. Each puff of air was a torture against wet, stimulated skin.

Tony was groaning almost before Bucky even started, that heat and the almost too-intimate touch spreading fire under Tony’s skin, making everything else fade away by comparison. “Oh, god, oh god, Bucky, I-- oh, _fuck_ that’s hnnnng, _Bucky_...” He was babbling and he knew it, and he didn’t care in the slightest, because the alternative was incoherent yelling. “Oh, shit, and it’s _my_ mouth that’s wicked? God, you’re so--” His hips were moving without his conscious direction, rutting against the bed and pushing back against Bucky’s tongue.

There was a white blast of pleasure as Bucky pushed his thumb against Tony’s perineum, rubbing against his prostate from the outside, all the while continuing to lick and nibble and goddamn torture Tony’s hole with his mouth. “Baby, you’re so sweet,” Bucky murmured. “Listen t’ you, jus’... hmmm, yeah, this is…” Bucky pushed down, held Tony’s thighs, keeping him still, practically forcing pleasure on him. Slick and heated and wicked and sinful.

Tony wailed into the pillow. With Bucky holding him still, every touch vibrated right into his core, an endless crescendo of sensation. “Oh god oh god oh god Bucky _please_ I need, I need _fuck_ I need you. I need more, please, baby, god, it’s so good but I can’t, I can’t, _Bucky_! Oh oh oh _oh_...!” His fists bunched in the sheets and the pillow, his back arching and flexing helplessly.

“You can,” Bucky said, encouraging. He got a couple of fingers into the mix, spreading Tony open, tugging the muscle until it relaxed. He didn’t stop what he was doing, keeping Tony open and vulnerable and exposed, working him over, laving Tony’s hole until he was nothing but a shivering mess of nerves. “Here, baby, I gotcha, just, roll up on your side, okay? Keep you off your knees.”

Tony gasped and shuddered, but let Bucky nudge him up onto his side, Bucky spooned close against his back. Bucky’s thigh slid between Tony’s legs, and Bucky pulled Tony’s top leg up and back, opening him up, giving Bucky room to slide his cock up against Tony’s hole. Tony groaned into the pillow as Bucky teased, breath warm and ticklish against Tony’s back.

“Oh, _hell_ ,” Bucky said. “Forgot t’ grab a condom, baby, can you… reach?” It didn’t keep him from rubbing against Tony, his cock sliding up and down the wet, slippery crack. There was so much more _heat_ from bare skin, each stroke was fiercely incandescent.

Tony let out a frustrated rumble and flailed for the drawer. Bucky didn’t help at all, rubbing and touching and licking. “Uggg, here,” Tony said, finally pulling out a packet. “Seriously, we should get tested.”

“Sorry, baby.” Bucky teased him again, checking with two fingers to make sure Tony was still ready, like he’d lose the stretch for thirty seconds of rooting around in a drawer, or maybe because Bucky was awful, and cruel and terrible, and liked listening to Tony whimper and beg. In either case, the pillow was going to come out the loser, as Tony bit down to keep from screaming.

“There you are,” Bucky said, pushing in, slow and sensual, his hips moving. “I got you, Tony. I got you.” One hand draped over Tony’s hip, fingers still wet with strawberry lube. He brushed his fingertips along Tony’s dick, a careless circle from head to balls, almost absently. He tucked his chin on Tony’s shoulder so he could see, watching avidly as Tony pushed back against him.

“God, you are _evil_ ,” Tony accused, trying to pull Bucky in deeper, trying to push into that barely-there touch, needing all of it, Bucky surrounding him, filling him up. He couldn’t even properly take over and stroke himself; the bandages on his scraped-up palms would not feel good. “Please, c’mon, Bucky, _please_ , I need you so bad...”

“Yeah, like this, right?” He thumbed over the crown, twisting his wrist as he stroked, moving in time with his thrusts. Bucky shifted the angle a little, slid in, until he was fully seated. Bucky got his other arm under Tony’s chest, pulling him even closer, until Tony’s spine was fully flat against Bucky’s chest, head tipped back so Bucky could deposit tiny kisses against Tony’s throat. His fingers stroked up and down Tony’s chest, teasing at one nipple, then resting against the big vein in Tony’s throat, like counting heartbeats.

“Oh _fuck_ yes,” Tony gasped. “Feels so good, babe, I just... Oh, god, I love this, love you.” Tony arched into the touch, reveling in the way the heat built through his whole body. “God, _yes_ , Bucky, so good, I... Oh, god.”

Yeah, so pretty, look at you, baby,” Bucky murmured. Those fingers on Tony’s pulse turned into a hand around his throat; thumb pushing Tony’s chin up and back. He wasn’t sure he’d ever realized before how long Bucky’s fingers were. They wrapped around his neck, gentle but sure. “Shhh. It’s okay, I won’t squeeze. Jus’ like the way it looks,” Bucky told him, nipping at Tony’s ear. He moved his other hand faster, giving Tony delicious friction, filling the air with that strawberry scent as it glided over Tony’s cock, coating him.

Tony shivered as his climax built. He thought briefly to the ring of bruises on Bucky’s throat, but pushed the thought away. Bucky had never been anything but careful with Tony. It was hard to imagine Bucky doing anything that could hurt Tony. And it felt good, felt bright and warm, like Bucky was cradling something precious in that hand. Tony tipped his head back farther, giving himself to Bucky. He moaned, feeling his throat vibrate against Bucky’s hand, the way Bucky stuttered, just a little, in his steady movements, and it felt like power. His skin felt tight and hot, and he shuddered in Bucky’s embrace. “Oh, god, honey, I’m--” A whine ripped out of his throat and he came, his whole body going taut, Bucky’s touch feeling even bigger, like he could hold all of Tony in his cupped hands.

“Oh, you’re good, Tony, baby, you’re so good to me,” Bucky was murmuring in his ear, praise and filth and swear words, telling Tony how beautiful he was, how sweet, how tight and how perfect, generous and giving, and each sentence was accompanied by a long, slick slide, moving faster and harder until Bucky’s fingers tightened, just a little, over Tony’s throat, and he groaned. Bucky’s hips jerked and he pushed against Tony one last time. “Oh, Christ, baby.” Bucky practically collapsed against Tony’s back, sticky and sweaty and breathing hard, burying his nose in Tony’s hair.

“Mmm,” Tony hummed. “Perfect.” He sighed and pulled Bucky’s arm over him like a blanket. “See, isn’t that better?”

“Bein’ with you is _always_ better,” Bucky informed him, still buried in Tony’s hair. “All of it. Every bit of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thanks for coming with us on this journey. Once again, Sandbridge ate our brain!! 
> 
> ALSO! If you haven't heard through tumblr... [Here's some interesting news](https://27dragons.tumblr.com/post/171539964872/27dragons-tisfan-and-i-just-finished) about the fate of the original Sandbridge Trilogy.


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